To Start a Fire: vol 1
by lollipop-mania
Summary: "Don't flatter yourself." He muttered with a resolute voice, "I have yet to be so tempted as to force my intentions on you." "And yet here you stand, requesting me." ...A collection of various one-shots and anecdotes. Themes and ratings vary. ShikaTema.
1. Thief

A/n: new story! It will be a series of very short anecdotes that are completely unconnected. I also take any requests (I only have like... 6 things planned, but want to end this around 10 chapters or something, so yes please make some requests) you may have. These will be _much_ shorter than my one-shots and are not nearly as in depth or as well-rounded, fyi. Continued thanks to my beta.

Note: This one is in a semi-au verse where Tsunade doesn't wake up after Pein's invasion and Danzou and his crew stage a coup and try to kill all people they think are loyal to Tsunade.

* * *

**Theif**

* * *

There was a soft thud.

Not quite loud enough for Shikamaru to think that their camp had been spotted, but certainly enough out of place to put him on guard; more so than he was already.

He stiffened, but didn't turn around; instead, he continued circling the path of his sentry duty, albeit much slower and with a careful gait that he hoped would make him appear unaware in case the thud was caused by someone with less-than-amicable intentions.

The forest was thick and dense surround his wayward trail. It was as good a hiding place as Kakashi and the other jonin had been able to come up with in a hurry. Supposedly they were somewhere near Ame, but Shikamaru hadn't been paying much attention to their current geography the past two weeks. But it was somewhere the Anbu following them might hesitate to look, as Konoha wasn't on good terms with most countries in the area.

Unfortunately, never having traveled this way, Shikamaru was unsure whether or not the noises following the thud—the small scratching and what sounded like the latching of a buckle—were part of the forest itself, or an unwanted guest.

Not wanting to risk it—though he was aware that most Anbu, most Root, that is, would already have attacked—he used a sideward shadow to pin a kunai to a trunk in the area the noise had come from.

"Wrong tree, idiot."

His pulse jumped as a figure leapt down from somewhere in the canopy of leaves.

Before his eyes even leveled with hers, Shikamaru was stalking forward with urgency, forcing Temari to walk backwards until she was pinned between himself and a large tree.

It was only a moment before his hand was covering her mouth, his form pressing tightly to her own. Had he been less occupied, Shikamaru would have reveled in the contact. Their proximity had rarely been so intimate, and he could easily feel every inch of her front pressing sharply into his. But Shikamaru _was_otherwise occupied, and the thought didn't even occur to him.

Looking past her and into the woods, he narrowed his eyes, scanning for anything out of the ordinary, before coming back to bore his gaze down into hers. "You can't be here, Temari."

She'd rarely heard him sound so...fiercely resolute, even when he was speaking in broken whispers to keep any nearby scouts from locating a position. Without the ability to open her mouth, Temari raised her brows in challenge. Without backing down, Shikamaru slowly removed his hand.

"I am here to help."

"We don't need you." It was clear to her that Shikamaru was probably in little condition to argue, the dark circles under his eyes and the washed-out paleness of his cheeks were enough to justify her claim, but the look in his eyes posed something deadly.

"The average lifespan for a missing-nin in Konoha is three weeks. In Suna, it's two. You have used up both. According to statistics, you have only seven more days at best, Shikamaru."

"We have the top shinobi in the village, give us more credit than that."

"But you also have some of the okay ones. A _lot _of the okay ones. Our spies say that thirty of the condemned one hundred made it out of the village. Danzou is sending out all of Root after you guys. Ten experts won't cut it. I can help."

Shikamaru felt his chest heat as she repeated what he was already well aware of. "_Temari_."

"I'm not going to leave."

"So what? We're going to need Gaara's help when the revolution begins. He can't just send his jonin away to join Naruto right now."

"Danzou already had his men search all of Suna. Gaara is playing it safe for now. He doesn't need me."

"Your people need you more than we do. Go home, Temari."

"I'm not leaving," she said again. Sharper this time, though still hushed.

He leaned closer. "We don't need you."

"_You _need me!"

"_I _don't need you hurt."

This time, his expression was enough to make her stop. With one last lean, this time stronger and almost painful, against her, Shikamaru took a step away, averting his eyes to the ground.

"I can't have you here, Temari. Don't you understand?"

"Then come with me." His head snapped up. "Come with me, back to Suna. Sneaking you in is easy. Keeping you there is easier."

"I can't."

"I'm not leaving you, Shikamaru." Her voice raised the slightest amount. "Either I stay, or you come with me."

"We can't do that." There was a pause and he sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking behind him to the path he'd been following.

"I can't _leave_ you here, Shikamaru!" Temari took two steps forward and grabbed onto his vest, pulling him back to face her. "You'll die. Don't _you_ understand? You'll _die out here._"

"Not anytime soon." It was a lie. They both knew it.

She pulled her head into his chest. "I don't know what I'd do with you, Shikamaru. Please. _Please_."

He looked up at the branches above him, baiting his breath for three long moments before placing his hands on her forearms and pushing her away. "We each have our places, Temari. Yours is with your family, in Suna. Mine is with my family, here." He laced his fingers through the hair had dropped out of its hold to fall against her neck and pulled her head back into his chest. "You know that."

Muffled in his clothing, "Shikamaru—"

"Temari. You need to go."

There was another moment of wait before he kissed the top her head and she pulled away. There was a long look before she turned back to the edge of their small clearing.

"Is she still alive?"

After a beat, Shikamaru gave a sound of affirmation.

With Choji one of the dead on his way out of Konoha, the very unconscious Ino was one of the few Shikamaru had left. "Do you want me to take her?"

"No."

Temari slowly exhaled. "That's all then."

She continued with her steps away from him toward the tree she'd descended from not five minutes before. "I'll always come back to you." He said softly. Temari stopped walking. "We will take Konoha back."

She looked over her shoulder, thinking over her words. "When Naruto is ready, we will—_Gaara will—_be there."

* * *

Review please!

Lots of love and apprecation,

-Lm


	2. Voyeur

a/n: quick update! I had an idea and had to write it down asap. Thank you for the reviews and please send me more requests! Thank you to my wonderful beta.

* * *

**Voyeur**

* * *

She had only left the party for five minutes when he interrupted her peace once again. Seeing his shadow beside her, Temari tightened her gloved hand on the balcony railing, willing him to understand her intention and to leave her be.

"That is it then?" asked her guest.

With strained patience, Temari resisted the urge to groan.

"You refuse to comply with my request only to wander to the balcony alone? I admit my pride was injured when you refused; but now the rejection increases to the degree of physical anguish when I realize you were not too busy to dance with me. Rather, you were just disinclined to be my partner."

Temari turned around and looked up into the eyes of the Nara heir. "Your words hold little charm over me, my Lord; there is no need to put effort into wooing me. Your efforts are better spent on someone more appreciative."

"My advances do not charm you?" Nara moved to stand beside her and leaned over the railing to look down at the moonlit gardens below. "A surprise, I admit. Perhaps there is some other way to gain your interest that I am not privy to?"

"I'm afraid men like you don't interest me."

"That's very general," Nara said, closing his eyes as though he was too exhausted to continue with them open. "And when you say men like me, what exactly do you mean? Intelligent?"

"Promiscuous."

"Promiscuous?" he repeated. "Hasn't a woman as educated and independent as yourself learned not to trust rumors?"

Temari sighed, leaning her hip against the railing and facing him. "I don't believe in rumors, my Lord, only things I witness with my own eyes. My bedroom is right across from yours, if you recall."

At this, Nara opened his eyes, quickly and only for a moment before he turned to her and blinked rapidly, caught quite off guard. "Have you been spying on me?"

"Perhaps the drapes are there to be shut in the first place? I have seen you take to bed more than one woman in the three months my brothers and I have been staying here. Not to mention the men you also seem to enjoy. It is almost as though you want me to see."

Nara shrugged, apparently not the least put off by her comment on his sexual practices. "Have you ever had the touch of another human being, Temari?"

"What business is it of yours?"

He shrugged again, head inclining to the right as he watched her. "None, but if you had, you might better understand the practice of engaging in intimacy with other people." He sighed, narrowing his eyes. "Though to be honest, you don't quite look the chaste type, so perhaps you too are well versed in the use of sexual intimacy." In the way he said it, Temari found herself fairly unaffected, though she did recognize that the actual words could be insulting had they been said more cunningly or with more bite. "Although," he noted absently, "in the few months you have been at my father's estate, I have yet to see you entertain any nighttime guests."

With a soft pop, Temari's lips popped into a round O, before she hurriedly tried to appear unsurprised.

A smirk creased the corner of his mouth and he looked away from her, back over the gardens. "Remember, the windows between us do go both ways."

"Don't you find it rather unseemly and inappropriate for a young lord to so crudely admit to spying on his guests?"

"If you are seeking consolation, take into account that I don't look into the other windows accessible to me. I am not a sexual predator,Temari. I do not look at anyone that does not want to be looked at."

Temari gave a hard frown, knowing he could see it even if he wasn't looking directly at her. "Consolation? By knowing I am the only one you look at? I assure you, your advances are unwanted."

Nara turned back towards her and Temari could feel her breath catch as he looked at her with something new in his eyes. "As you said," he responded in a much lower voice, "there is a reason our drapes are not closed."

"I-"

"You must know I've seen you," he interrupted, speaking slowly, "no woman, or person for that matter, would act so coyly had they known they were completely alone."

There was a long beat. Temari licked her lips, feeling her heart rate quicken. "And if I were confirm your suspicions?" Nara's form turned to face her too quickly to appear unaffected. "Would you invite me to your bed, like you have all those others?" Although he was staring at her with a bored expression, she had seen his eyes widen the instant the words had registered with him.

"Don't flatter yourself." He muttered with a resolute voice, though she believed he was feeling quite the opposite. "I have yet to be so tempted in watching you rest as to force my intentions on you."

"And yet here you stand, requesting me."

Nara wiped his thumb over his lower lip, eyes bright. "You've been staying in Konoha since the spring, and yet, we have spoken little more than a few sentences to one another. I request_ed _you to dance with me, perhaps in an attempt to better acquaint myself with the sister of the Kazekage and my father's guest; _not _to invite you to share my bed."

Temari took a step closer to him, putting only a few inches between them. The tightness of her gown began to feel too constricting, and the material, which went out from her waist to form a large skirt, brushed over Nara's calves. She tilted her head to look up at him. He was much taller up close. "Are you sure those were your intentions?"

In an unexpected move, Nara swallowed and Temari could feel the smirk taking hold of her mouth. He cleared his throat and let his gaze travel down her neck to settle on the plumpness of her breasts for only an instant before snapping his eyes back to hers. "To be so candid, I have had such implied intentions since the day you arrived, though my request for a dance was only meant amicably. Though if my request were to be complied with, my initial... _intentions _would surely take hold."

"What if I told you that I don't enjoy dancing as a pastime?"

Without missing a beat, Nara matched her smirk and reached out to draw his thumb across the inside of her wrist before pulling back. "Then I might let you know that there are other ways to get to know someone."

"I am sure there are."

The following silence was not uncomfortable. Temari was not a crude person by nature. And she was surely not attracted to men like the young heir, as she had previously acknowledged. But she was quite aware of the fact that she often found herself wondering if Nara was ever as voyeuristically curious with her as she was with him. And though she had neither expected nor wanted this sort of conversation-_action_-to take place, it did have a sort of relieved and inevitable feeling attached to it.

"There you are!" The double doors leading to the large balcony opened and a beautiful blonde girl Temari had seen Nara with frequently-though admittedly never in his bed chamber-strode through, the heavy moonlight reflecting off her hair. "I've been looking for you everywhere, Shikamaru. You..." she trailed off when noticing the proximity of Nara and Temari. "Oh, my apologies; am I interrupting something?"

Temari took a step back and absently rubbed her wrist where it burned. "Not at all."

Nara cleared his throat.

The blonde one looked between the two of them and then took a few more steps to reach out and grab Nara by his sleeve. "Come. You owe me a dance and this is the last song of the night."

With one last look, Nara acquiesced with the girl and followed her back into the ballroom. Temari watched as he receded, turning back over the balcony as soon as she saw him turn his head to glance back at her. Although whatever plans they had been making-it was very vague, she'd admit-had abruptly been put to a halt, she felt more content than she had since arriving in Konoha and at the Nara estate.

In the very least, she had more, though very wayward, respect for the Nara heir.

And later that night, she entered her rooms and pulled open the heavy velvet curtains covering the wide window in line with her bed. An hour or so later, after her handmaid had left and Temari was dressed for bed, she pulled her hair from its plait down her back. She lit a candle to lighten the room. And then, without any internal conflict, Temari pulled her night dress over her head in one swift motion, leaving her completely nude. In the mirror on the wall Temari watched, in the reflection behind her, the drapes covering the window across the courtyard part open to reveal the outline of a man with long, dark hair leaning on the sill, his chin in his hand and his face turned toward her window.

* * *

oh cock-blocking Ino.

My first historical-au, so review! idk if it works at all.

and bisexual shikamaru! (i'm in the mindset that everyone is (rather, pansexual), but that's neither here nor there).

Request and review!


	3. Skipping Stone

a/n: when i mapped out the chapters for this volume, this one is down as: obligatory coffee shop au. just fyi. i finally succumbed. in all seriousness though, it is kind of an obligation for any pairing.

p.s. this one _may_ have a sequel later on.

* * *

**Skipping Stone**

* * *

"If it is that bad, why you don't just use your savings. I mean, christ, your father is loaded. Or just move back into that place he bought for you all."

Temari scrunched her nose and looked away from Sakura's inquisitive gaze. "It's too busy. Gaara conducts a lot of his work there; people always coming in and out."

"Because Kankuro's apartment is so much calmer."

Her eyes narrowed. "At least he gives me my space."

The bell above the door chimed and both Sakura and Temari looked over to see a man dressed in jeans, a large navy sweater, and a trench coat enter.

"Isn't he a little late today?" Sakura said under her breath, leaning over the counter to grab a menu and hand it to Temari.

Temari glanced at the clock behind her and shrugged. Since she'd been working this shift, he'd come in every Tuesday and Thursday between 11 o'clock and 11:10. It was 11:30 now. She probably would have noticed, had today not been so... climactic.

Wiping her hands on her apron and bookmarking the open textbook in front of her, Temari took the menu-though she knew even this was for show-and walked over to the booth in the corner the man was currently-_always_-sitting in.

"Hello," she said absently, handing him the plastic menu. "Can I get you anything?"

Without looking at her, the man removed his thick scarf and set it down on the table. She had been working the night shift at Skipping Stone for several months now, and she was pretty sure he only wore variations of the same clothing. He always appeared clean, even with the scent of stale of cigarettes that seemed to always accompany him, but she had noticed, his clothes never really changed. She had caught herself wondering every now and then if his closet was just a set of blue sweaters and black coats or if he simply continue to wash the same outfit every night. Or every Tuesday and Wednesday, at least.

"Coffee," he said in the same deep and vaguely disinterested voice she had grown used to. "Black."

Without opening it once, he handed back the menu.

"Sure." Temari replied and walked back to the counter where Sakura had already prepped a cup and as filling it up.

"You could stand to be a little kinder," Sakura chided softly, "you do realize customers like to be treated friendly, especially when they know you."

"I _don't_ know him."

"He comes in all the time and always orders the same thing. There is no need to treat him like a stranger."

Temari rolled her eyes and took the coffee. "If you treat him like he's special he will only get arrogant."

"How do you know he's arrogant? You never even talk to him."

"Look at his hair, Sakura. As soon as you put it in a ponytail, _especially _when you mess it up like that, you lose all benefit of the doubt. How hard do you think he tries to be accidentally handsome?"

Sakura chuckled. "He is friends with Ino. She likes him well enough."

"Because Ino is such a humble person."

"All I mean," Sakura said patiently, "is that you could stand to be a little nicer. Especially when he tips so well."

"How about you try waiting on him?" Temari bit back.

"He only sits in your section."

Temari tightened her fingers around the mug and walked back to the booth in the corner. The jazz music on the radio was probably loud enough to drown out their conversation at the counter, not to mention they'd been speaking quietly. The man didn't give any sign that he'd heard them, anyway. He just sat there, hands clasped together on the table and eyes looking out the window.

Temari set down the coffee next to his elbow. "Would you like anything else?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"No. Thank you."

"Anyway," Sakura said when Temari came back to the counter, "it doesn't matter how much Kankuro physically leaves you alone. It's only going to get worse," Sakura noted, referring back to their earlier conversation.

Temari shrugged. "I know, but come May, if she's not accidentally pregnant and Kankuro's not failing any classes, they'll move away after he graduates. Then I'll get the place to myself."

"Right," Sakura said, "but how are you supposed to pass your finals when your brother and his girlfriend don't understand noise levels?"

"How are _you _supposed to pass yours while talking to me?" Temari snapped.

Sakura threw up her hands in mock surrender, "I'm just saying, you've been complaining about it for months now, and she wasn't even living with you. Now you say she is moving in _right before _exams and you aren't going to do anything about it? You can hardly _sleep _with all that noise."

Temari bit her lip and turned back to her book, "go study, Sakura," she ground out. Sakura sighed and went into the backroom where she had her pre-med texts laid out all over the floor. Temari rested her elbows back on the counter and opened her thick textbook back to the bookmarked page. She didn't read half a paragraph before the man before her cleared his throat.

"Excuse me."

Temari glanced up, surprised. In all the months he'd been coming here, they'd had the same routine. And it had already been enacted for tonight. At this point he was supposed to get up, leave a crisp $20 on the table-much more than the coffee was worth-and head out before she could give him his change.

They had a script. And for some reason, he was breaking it.

"Could I have a refill?" He continued when she didn't respond.

After a beat, Temari blinked. "Uh, sure." She'd never seen him up so close before. He was much taller than he appeared from far away or when sitting down. Even if he was skinny and beautiful in a feminine sort of way, his height suddenly made him quite intimidating. She looked down to see him extending his empty mug. Temari took it, trying very hard to make sure their fingers didn't brush. He was making her uncomfortable.

She walked over to the coffee pots. Maybe Sakura had been right about being more friendly with her regular customers. And who knew, maybe he'd tip more (though probably not).

"You came in late today."

Turning around, Temari faced him while pouring the coffee. Apparently, this newfound dialogue between the two surprised him as well, as his eyes widened a bit. He was much prettier than she'd thought at first as well. His skin was very white and almost powered-looking in a kind of dull way, but his dark eyes were rimmed with thick black lashes and his lips were a natural shade of dark pink that gave some sort of color to his face. His cheekbones were very high as well, and his jaw very pointed. He was better looking than she was. Probably better looking than Sakura, which was a pretty daunting thought.

His surprised look turned sheepish for a second as he brushed back a silky piece of hair behind his ear. "Did I?"

Standing on opposite sides of the ivory counter, Temari eyed him for a moment longer before placing her fingers on the rim of his mug and pushing it back. She could feel something bright and quite familiar beginning to pulse in her gut.

"Anything else?" She asked pointedly, ignoring his question.

The man looked at her for a second before taking the coffee back. This time, their fingers brushed. Temari snapped her hand away. He was making her uncomfortable again, though the warm feeling in the pit of stomach didn't go away, which made for an altogether indescribable emotion of two counteracting feelings. She didn't like it very much, though she acknowledged the fascination.

"Is there any particular reason you're not using your inheritance to rent an apartment on your own?" He asked after a moment.

She gaped. "What? Were you listening? And how the hell do you know about my inheritance?"

Her heart rate quickened when he cocked a smirk, her annoyance growing. "Temari, right?" He said with no questioning lilt at the end. "My father works with your brother."

Temari eyed him carefully. The fact that he knew who she was-probably had known as long as he'd been coming here-made the whole loner thing he had going a whole lot creepier. Sakura liked him, only because she liked Ino, and while Temari didn't _mind _Ino, she had trusted her friendship with this guy. But fuck. She couldn't imagine why Ino liked him at all.

But creepy or not, she wasn't scared of him. He wasn't dangerous-she was pretty sure she could beat him up too, but that was another matter-he just made her feel...apprehensive.

"I don't know what to do when I finish school," she admitted slowly, regarding him with inflective interest. "I am saving my inheritance until then. I might be out of work for a very long time."

"This is not meant to be insulting, only inquisitive," he prompted. She frowned, but nodded for him to continue. "Your family has enough money for you to live comfortably your whole life without working at all. Is there any particular reason you aren't using it?"

"That's awfully personal," Temari commented, lips falling into a hard line.

He shrugged.

She gave a small sigh and licked her lips. It wasn't something she talked about often, though she wasn't opposed to talking about it either. "I don't want to ask my father for money." Which she would have to do, if she were to not work for the rest of her life, which at the moment, seemed like a legitimate possibility.

The man picked up his mug without responding and took a long sip, eyeing her over the cup. He set it down again and wiped the wetness on his lips with the back of his hand. "You really have no idea what career you want to pursue?"

"No idea whatsoever."

"And your major?"

The radio station they were listening to stopped playing music for a moment to make note on the coming snowstorm. It was supposed to start in a few hours and last three days. She stopped for a few seconds to listen to the update. "I'm one year into getting a graduate degree in physics."

He nodded and took another large sip of his now cool coffee. When he set down the cup this time, it was empty. He pushed the cup back to her over the counter and reached into the inside breast pocket of the coat he was still wearing. He pulled out a slim wallet and placed another twenty dollar bill on the counter. "I should get home."

"Coffee is only $1.50," she said loudly as he walked back to his booth to grab his scarf.

"Save up to buy an apartment away from your brother."

"Aren't you a student?" She doubted he was older than her, plus, almost every young adult who lived around here-which she assumed he did-was somehow connected to the university. "You should probably keep it."

He straightened his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck, tucking in the hair at the end of his ponytail that reached his neck. His hair was longer than hers. "Dropped out," he commented lightly before raising a hand in what might have been a wave and pulling open the door. The bells clinked as he left.

Dropped out? Temari sighed and picked up the money, stuffing it into her apron. She glanced back at the clock. Her shift ended at 1am. She had another hour. There were no other customers and only one or two people, if any, came in during that time. She took a rag from the sink and began wiping down the counter, a requirement every hour.

"Aren't you proud of me?" She said loudly.

"For having a conversation?" Came Sakura's muffled reply behind the door to the backroom.

"For being nice to a customer."

"If that's what you call nice, then yeah."

Temari groaned and threw the rag back into the sink.

* * *

On thursdays, Sakura came in an hour earlier than Temari, which meant she also left an hour earlier, so when midnight struck, the younger girl grabbed her coat, slipped on her snow boots and bid Temari goodnight. By now, Temari usually had the whole place to herself. But for some reason, her customer was still sitting there, staring out the window. Although this side of town was pretty much a hub for students and university faculty, there was no one outside in this weather and at this time of night, and Temari absently wondered what he was looking at that would keep so interested for over an hour.

"Are you leaving anytime soon?" She asked him from across the room.

Even though she could tell he got the hint, he merely glanced over at her without any sort of expression on his face. "Are you closing?"

"No."

"Then no," he responded blankly before turning back to the window. The streetlights were the only thing illuminating the sidewalk.

Temari sighed. "Do you mind if I turn off the music then?"

"Can't study?"

"I can, I just have trouble reading when music is playing."

Still looking at the window, he waved his hand for her to continue. "Do what you want,".

Stealing the stool that was usually where the cashier sat during the day and moving it to the middle of the counter, Temari sat down, and once again, began to pour over her books.

She couldn't concentrate though. She kept looking up to watch the man in the booth watch the street outside. She had been relatively distracted and frequently occupied this past week and hadn't had much of a chance to reflect on her previous conversation with him. He was interesting person. It wasn't in what he'd said-he hadn't said much-but in the way he carried himself, physically.

He was mysterious and hard to read, which in turn made him all the more captivating. It was certainly possible that he wasn't all that hard to read, there just wasn't much to be read, but she had a feeling there was, and that he was just a more inwardly focused person.

She didn't _want _to understand him. She didn't have a crush on him or anything. He was just... interesting.

"You should be studying," he said, effectively pulling her from her thoughts. "Stop staring at me."

Temari's brows shot up.

"I can see your reflection," he answered, still not facing her. "Isn't your first test in two weeks?"

She bristled, he'd been eavesdropping on her and Sakura again. "If you left, I'd be able to get more done."

"You might as well give up then." This time her turned to look at her. "You look tired," he commented, gesturing to the seat across from him. "Come sit."

"I'm working."

"Serving what customers?"

Temari sighed, waited a moment, and then bookmarked her page, slid off the stool and walked over to this table. He gestured for her to take a seat and with one more reluctant sigh, Temari slid in opposite him.

She waited, and when he didn't speak, she turned to the window and began looking out. He follow suit and they sat there in silence until the alarm on her phone went off.

"My shift ends in ten minutes."

"Are you going home then?"

She raised her brows. "Actually, I run all my errands at one in the morning."

The man rolled his eyes, nevertheless reaching into his inside breast pocket for his wallet. Temari stood, feeling the cool air wash over the outside of her thigh where it had been pressed against his. She hadn't even realized they'd been touching.

She grabbed his empty mug and walked into the kitchen to stick it in the wash. In the back room, she hung up her apron grabbed her coat. Lee, the man in charge of the place until 5am when another waiter joined him and the cook came to open up the kitchen, was waiting in the front when Temari came out.

They exchanged a few words after greeting and then they parted. When Temari left the cafe, the snow was falling harder than it had that evening when she'd come in. She looked to her right and left. Her customer was nowhere to be found. Temari walked home, the snow crunching beneath her weight.

* * *

"You know," Sakura said a week and a half later, "I have a room in the dorms."

"_You _live there."

Sakura shrugged. "I can stay at Kakashi's for the rest of the month. He won't mind."

"Are you just trying to dump your bitch of a roommate on me?"

Sakura rolled her eyes and looked back down at her book. "No," she said, tracing her finger along some diagram of some body part reacting to some disease Temari had no interest in ever learning about, "I'm trying to help you out. Though my roommate really is a bitch."

"You'd be distracted at Kakashi's apartment. I can't force you to sacrifice your exams for me."

Sakura raised her brows, though she wasn't paying much attention, "trust me, it's harder to concentrate when living with Karin. At least Kakashi understands the need for quiet."

"Don't worry," Temari said, stacking the last of the dishes from the drying rack. "My first exam is in one week. All I need to do is hold out until then. Kankuro and his girlfriend aren't _that bad_. And during winter break I'll look for another place on my own."

"Temari-"

"Thanks, but I don't need charity Sakura."

"It's not charity, it's a favor. You'll have to repay me in kind."

Temari turned to face Sakura and narrowed her eyes, "I'm not sure I want to owe _you_ a favor."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Remember when we met? Ino and I both had the afternoon shift and one day she asked you to cover for her in return for a favor and her tips?"

"That's a bad example."

She raised her eyebrows, "you made her run your errands for three weeks."

"I wouldn't do that to you."

Temari shrugged, "not going to risk it."

Sakura waved her hand, "it's an offer." She said as they walked back into the front of the cafe.

The man was back, sitting in his usual booth. She had seen him two more times since the night he asked about her to sit with him, and both times, neither of them had deviated from the usual. Taking a menu in hand, Temari walked over.

"Hello," she said, watching him carefully and handing him the menu. "Can I get you anything?"

He removed his scarf and, without looking at her, ordered a coffee, black. He then handed back the menu.

Temari came back to the counter where Sakura was preparing a fresh pot. "Anyways," she said, "think about it." She handed Temari a clean mug and poured in the new brew.

"Is that all I can get you?" Temari asked as she placed the coffee in front of the man.

Still looking out the window, silky hair in his eyes, he licked his bottom lip, reaching out and taking the handle of the cup and lifting it to his mouth. "No. Thank you." Temari gave a short nod and was turning around to go back to the counter when he continued. "You can live with me."

"What?"

He looked up at her. "I have a bed, if you need one."

"Jesus!" Temari snapped, "stop listening to our conversations! And fuck, are some kind of pervert? Inviting your _waitress _into your bed?"

The man sighed and leaned back in the booth, rubbing his eyes and looking altogether exasperated. But Temari's heart was pounding and her face was flushed and she couldn't believe some guy was asking her to move in with him. "I'm not inviting you to _share _a bed... ugh, you're such a pain," the man ground out.

Temari said nothing, still surprised and altogether quite unsure how to react. A moment passed and then the man scooted out of the booth. He stopped before Temari, who was partially blocking his way, but she didn't move and he was forced to take her shoulders and physically adjust her placement to grab his scarf.

He then placed his usual $20 on the table and from another pocket, pulled out a small pad and pen. He ripped out half a page of paper from the pad and scribbled something relatively illegible before putting everything away except the note, which he left on top of the money next to a half-full cup of black coffee.

"My name 's Shikamaru Nara, by the way." He comment in a very offhand way, before stepping past her and out the door. The bells jingled on his way out.

* * *

Temari uncrumpled the slip of paper in her pocket. It wasn't the one the man-_Shikamaru_-had written her. She hadn't been able to clearly read that copy, and so Ino had written down his address for her the day before.

_239 East Street_, _apt no.4_

Temari stood outside a whitewashed door with chipped paint. A black _4 _hung below the peephole. The neighborhood wasn't particularly nice, but it was quiet; and across the street from the east side of campus, which made it coveted and expensive.

She wasn't sure whether it was really the best idea to come here- well, she was positive it wasn't the best idea, far from it actually; probably the third or fourth best option she could think of-but it was the only choice she had.

Temari took a long breath, sucking on her lower lip. She set down her duffle and shoved the piece of paper in her coat pocket once again. One more sigh, and then she raised her hand and rapped at door. Twice.

There was a long pause and she wondered if he wasn't home, and then, she heard shuffling and the doorknob turned.

* * *

note: i think this one needed more ino, which is the biggest reason i'm considering writing a follow-up to this chapter. i'm so in love with that girl.

okay.

also, i am _thinking _of making the next chapter a quasi-sequel to Coming Up Tails, which is already somewhat mapped out in the commentary. if this is something you'd like to read, lmk.

I'm always taking other requests as well! And I promise to get to all the ones I already have!

Thank you all!

And reviews are love and sunshine and puppies

-lm

pps: idk if anyone noticed, but i put covers (or whatever the fuck ff is doing) on my stories. some of them have no credit, so if you know the artist, tell me. thanks.


	4. Dependence

a/n: This is kind of an excerpted follow-up to Coming Up Tails. You need to read the original to fully understand this, but I suppose it's not necessary if you'd rather just attempt this sequel. I also wrote in present tense again, but this time, as it is excerpted, it counts up to 5, each a significant moment in the rekindling of their relationship. Certain details deviate from the half-sketched ending in the CuT Commentary. Enjoy and review!

* * *

**Dependence**

* * *

_Puzzle pieces don't always connect, do they?_

—Ellen Hopkins

* * *

1.

It is the second time he has ever been in the Hokage's office alone. Last time, his presence was requested, and when he'd arrived, not a single guard or resident had been in sight, save Tsunade. This time, Shikamaru has come on his on volition, and there had been others mingling about the offices, that is until Tsunade dismissed them all.

He secretly finds it vaguely ironic that the reason he is here now is both directly and indirectly connected to the last time. He doesn't say this aloud though, knowing Tsunade will take his words in a very negative fashion—making light of a very dark memory.

"And you suppose this is a good idea?" She asks, resting her chin in her hand and looking at him with a vaguely distrusting air.

"I do."

"And you won't do anything rash or…" she stares at him a moment, "stupid, will you?"

Shikamaru doesn't miss a beat. "No."

"Good." There is a shuffling somewhere out in the hall and Tsunade waves her hand to dismiss him. "You are only running some errands, Shikamaru. You needn't spend more than a few hours there."

He gives a hard nod, making clear he understands and that he won't take the action she is warning him against. There is one more moment of pause before Shikamaru turns around and opens the door to leave. He stops when she speaks.

"How long has it been?"

He glances back. "A little over three years." Three years and three months.

She gives him a long look. "You are signing your team up for the Chunin exams this year, right?"

A frown creases his brow. "I am still considering."

Tsunade clasps her hands on the table and gets back to work, making her comment appear to be much less than it is, "you should consider introducing your team to the Kazekage, then."

Shikamaru doesn't smile or give any inclination that he understood her sympathy. Another moment passes and he gives one more nod before shutting the door.

It was offered to Tenten's genin team first. She was busy though, and Shikamaru took up the opportunity quickly.

It is a half-hearted decision.

As much as he wants to go to Suna, the idea also frightens him. It is not just an arbitrary worry. He is nervous. Terrified. As scared as he has ever been. The thought blackens his insides and forms a hole so deep and pitiful that nothing—no decadence or fulfillment—can seem to fill the missing piece.

But there is no way to fill it.

He may go see her—_him_—but it would do no good. He would have to leave. He has no choice, no say, no claim…

He knew it the day it was proposed to him. He knew it the night she conceived. He knows it now as he walks home to the estate and to his apartment.

Leaving would only rip the whole larger; make the hollow deeper.

But god, what other choice does he have?

He lusts for everything about her.

* * *

2.

He doesn't sleep most of the trip. An hour or two here and there, but that is all.

His team is excited. He has never taken them to Suna. It is odd, they tell him, as pretty much every other team has gone there. He knows. Their foreign relations are tight-knit. He tells them he was once an ambassador for the Leaf before the position became a full time one. Now there is a Konoha shinobi whom lives in the Sand year-round. Has been for over half a decade. Shikamaru hasn't been there since.

When he is able to sleep, he dreams heavily. He has had dreams of her, of them, on and off for years. But now, he only dreams of himself and the warped sense of duty he continues to enact. He always wakes up as if from a fit.

But the night before they arrive, he sleeps well and long until Tomi and the rest of his team wake him up.

* * *

3.

When they enter the gates of Suna, they don't make it to the Kazekage's office before seeing her.

She is standing by a cart in the street, talking with another man. It is as though the laws of time and age don't apply to her. She is twenty six now, and he doesn't believe her physical figure has changed at all since she was sixteen. Logically, he figures, this must be far from true, but it doesn't appear to be.

She _is_ older, and god knows probably wiser. She certainly _seems_ happier; listening intently to whatever her partner is saying.

And Shikamaru is just standing, forced blocks in his throat urging him to scream and wail and cry in happiness and jealousy and relief and _fear_, and his stomach is tight and he can feel a quickening and heavy pulse throbbing in his ears, drowning out all other noise.

He can't move, but he has no inclination to, and so the realization of weighted frame and legs barely applies.

He knew it was going to happen. He'd come here specifically _for _it to happen.

But dreams and reality and two entirely different things with little to no liaison between the two and he just feels... lost. Always and never; here and gone, everywhere and nowhere at once, and the feelings are contradicting and making him sick.

Gazes are fire and it does occur to him that at some point she will feel it burning into her profile. A moment later and her head moves, slight and graceful and pinpointed in his exact direction.

There is a sharp, quick intake of breath and slight widening of eyes, and besides the now furious pounding of his heart, he notices nothing else.

They stand as such, over six yards between them.

When he saw her last, it was when she handed him the conformation and he'd realized—belated, he knew—that he was, for all intents and purposes, madly, frighteningly in love with her.

Then she left and he never saw her again.

But now she is here. And so is he. And the moment is taking much more than it is giving.

But, for the briefest second, there is no weight on his shoulders, no hole in his being that continues to gnaw on his flesh.

There is just him. And just her. And it was happening much too quickly for any proper reaction to take place.

But then it is over. Her eyes have left his and moved down and it takes a moment for him to gather himself and follow. This time, his reaction is completely different. There is no shortage of oxygen, no weighted legs or shaking hands.

For Shikamaru, there is no mistaking who he is. He looks just like one would expect him to. Perhaps his eyes are darker, and his face much rounder, not to mention the tufts of light hair, but for Shikamaru, the boy is very clearly his own creation.

Temari listens to what her son has to say before responding with a very tight smile and crouching down to say something to him. A moment later, the boy looks vaguely in Shikamaru's general direction and then Temari straightens and grabs the child's hand, leading him over to where Shikamaru is standing.

He doesn't know what to do, but Temari, seemingly understanding, nods her head and he takes the hint. They are only a foot away and Shikamaru is able to reach out his hands when he kneels, brushing his long, thin fingers through the boy's hair. It is dry and thick, exactly like Temari's always felt.

The boy turns his head to the side and looks at the ground, clearly uncomfortable. Finding his footing—to some extent at least—Shikamaru smiles, although the lump in his throat is still contracting and the back of his eyes feel heavy and weighted. "Sorry," he says, voice dry and broken, and tone tinged with relief. "You are very beautiful," he continues, pulling his hand away to rest on his knees, "I got carried away."

Temari clears her throat and he glances up at her. She is wearing a very sad expression, but there is also some other emotions in her gaze and he doesn't quite know what to make of them. "Shikamaru," she says, and he holds his breath, "this is Tayori."

A grin breaks out on his face and Shikamaru looks back down at her son. "Hello, Tayori," he greets, the name coming in one heavy and delighted breath. "I am…" he trails off, though the tone is still light, "a friend of your mother's."

Tayori glances up at Shikamaru now, looking at him fully before looking back up at his mother.

"Sorry," Temari says, bending down and picking him up. She rests him on her hip. "He's not very friendly sometimes."

Shikamaru also straightens, nodding.

They stand like that for a while, just together in silence, and neither of them really mind; but then his genin team is back and they are pulling on his vest and the moment is swept away.

"Let's go," Tomi says, dragging him backwards.

"Hey!" He says half-heartedly, if only because making an articulate sentence is well beyond his capitation at the moment, "I'm in the middle of something."

"We have to get home," she says, "Hokage-sama said we shouldn't be late."

"I should go too," Temari says, and though Tomi dragged him a good yard further away from her and Tayori before letting go, Shikamaru makes no effort to re-close the distance.

"Right," he replies, the initial shock coming back.

Temari gives him a long look before nodding in finality. "It was good to see you, Shikamaru."

He waits a moment and then nods in return. "You too."

He doesn't sleep much on the way home.

* * *

4.

"How are you?" He asks the first time they are left alone. They are in the Kazkage's offices, standing there while waiting for the rest of their party to come back from lunch. They are not friends. But they share mutual acquaintances, and Shikamaru has found himself out with her on more than one occasion, but this is the first time it has just been the two of them.

Temari blinks slowly and looks up at him. Neither of them have had any direct communication since the first time they saw one another in the streets, over a year before. But neither of them shies away. There are no hidden looks or ersatz ignorance; no light-stepped flirtation.

He is not ashamed to look at her, openly and naked. When she knows she is being watched, she doesn't challenge, as she once would, she only ignores it—_accepts it. _He does the same when he knows her eyes have traced his movement.

Now is the first time her eyes have finally met his, and she only looks forlorn. "Well," she answers, tilting her head to the side. "You?"

Shikamaru waits a beat and then nods. "Fine." He doesn't mention anything else, but god knows she is well aware of all of it. But there are some things that can't be said.

"Good," she replies, lips parted slightly and eyes both sad and kind. "That's good."

He nods again. That is the extent of their conversation.

It happens like this more often over the next two years. Perhaps a dozen times total—he isn't counting. Their interaction never deviates from this script though, maybe a few more, or less, words, but in the end it all means the same thing.

There is always so much more he could say and at the same time nothing to say at all. She tries though, once, at a work meeting when they are left alone in a conference room. "I am finding it harder and harder to look away from you," she says, voice quiet and bare, not denying anything and implying everything.

But Shikamaru understands. The only reason he ever looks away is because it so much easier than _seeing. _

The next time they are alone together, the night of Gaara's twenty-sixth birthday, she says more. He wonders, for a very long period, how she can do it. Perhaps she holds the cards, though he supposes neither of them do. And yet, she says things that shouldn't be said. Things that he wants to say, painfully, and that she has no right to say.

She is standing on the second floor balcony, looking down at the party-goers on the floor below. He is talking to the Konoha Ambassador when he passes her. He excuses himself and goes to stand with her.

He has done this before, though nothing is really meant by it. He doesn't feel comfortable around her. He certainly doesn't feel safe. If anything, antsy and wounded and dangerous and broken everywhere. But it is worse to stand away from her.

"How are you?" He asks, per usual.

"Fine," she responds. "And you?"

"Okay," he answers, leaning over the railing to mimic her position. "It is a nice party."

"Yes."

There is silence between them for a long time. There are a dozen couples dancing, and a handful of songs begin and finish before she speaks. It is out of the blue, and certainly unexpected, but he isn't very surprised. Nervous, maybe.

"He asks about you, you know." She says quietly. Almost more to herself, though she is quite obviously addressing him. Shikamaru feels his heart contract and release in sharp, tandemic spurts. Her fingers wander vaguely over the edge of the almost empty glass in her hand and he wonders just how much she has had to drink.

They have never once talked about Tayori. Apart from the few times Shikamaru has seen him around Suna and waved, he hasn't even interacted with the boy in three years. "Oh?"

"He asks if you're dead. Or if your a bad man. He doesn't understand why I'm not married."

"Five year olds are too curious," Shikamaru mutters, with lack of anything more substantial coming to mind.

She goes on, "He asks how I feel about his father."

Shikamaru doesn't respond for a few moments, throat bobbing and knuckles white as he hands clench the railing. It has been six years now. He's still not over it, but he has certainly gotten better, in a very obtuse, wayward sense.

"What do you say?" He is able to grind out eventually.

Temari closes her eyes. "I lie." She responds quietly, but certainly more from exhaustion and weight than any embarrassment or secrecy.

Shikamaru rubs a hand over his face. "What do want to tell him?" He says with a very low and slightly strained voice.

"That I'm in love with him," Temari replies without missing a beat.

She isn't looking at him and Shikamaru isn't looking at her. He is taken aback, but not very confounded. He knew it, _had _known it, for years, perhaps. He probably always knew it. _Even then. _

There is nothing else to say. And they stand there until someone interrupts them.

* * *

5.

There is only one light on, and he assumes it is Temari's. Shikamaru knocks on the door. He has never done this before. Sure, he's considered it, dozens of times. But he's never even considered going through with it.

The last time he showed up at her door, he was drunk. This time he is sober but no less in control.

When she opens the door, she is as surprised as he is by the action.

"Shikamaru," she frowns, "what are you doing here?"

He hesitates, unsure himself. "Can I come in?"

Temari pauses a moment, but then steps back and pulls the door to widen the entryway. He licks his lips and then steps through.

"Sit," she says as she leads him into what appears to be a living room, "I'll make us some tea." He nods and silently takes a seat on a dark blue couch. He places his weight forward and leans his elbows on his knees.

"Is everything okay?" She asks when she comes back, handing him a steaming mug. He sips it, disregarding the potential burn of his tongue. It doesn't burn though, and so he takes another sip.

"I just…" he looks down at the coffee table she is now sitting on, facing him. He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't know why he is here. Well, he knows why. They both know why. But he doesn't know what he can take because he knows there is almost nothing she can give. "I needed to be with someone who would understand me," she inhales too deeply, "and you came to mind."

Temari gives that smile she has been practicing for the last eight years, sad and kind and _knowing _and denying. "I don't think I've ever understood you." She responds.

He glances up, "you've always known how I felt about you, haven't you? Even then, you knew."

Temari sighs. "What do you want, Shikamaru?"

She is dressed for the night; wearing a long sweater that covers almost all of her thighs, but the muscles beneath her skin are familiar and his heart is pumping too quickly and his mouth is too dry. "I want you."

"Shikamaru," she says slowly, faintly patronizing, "you should go."

Without thinking his hand darts out and touches her knee. "Tonight," he says, fingers digging into her skin, "_please._"

Temari waits, back straight and eyes tight. "And tomorrow?" she asks eventually without any questioning lilt, full well aware of the answer. "_I know, Shikamaru_." She says, "I know, but we can't. There were rules."

He can feel tears threatening behind his eyes. Not because he is too happy or sad, but only because the well of emotions inside him are bubbling and are too much for his body to sort through. He thinks his heart might burst out of his chest.

He reaches higher and takes her hand, holding uncomfortably tight.

"Temari," he whispers, leaning forward, head below her knee. "I—" but his words are taken as pulls her hand out of his and in one motion grabs his head and pulls him up to bring his lips to press tightly against hers.

"Tonight," she says against his lips, the word broken between quick breaths. But he doesn't hear her, or perhaps just chooses to ignore, using his legs to propel him up and closer to her, arms weaving over and around, fingers scratching everywhere and head swimming with quite unacknowledged and unwelcome warnings.

* * *

half-beta-ed, will re-do later

Almost out of requests guys! Send some!

Thank you for reading and also thank you _carolnuts _for helping me with the name for Tayori. Also, some of the dialogue and the phsyical design of the last scene was stolen from my otp in _City Hunter_. There is another scene of theirs I plan on making a ShikaTema-based version of later on.

Reviews are kindness and warmth and sunshine.


	5. Gamble

a/n: thank you for all the reviews for the last chapter! they mean a lot. Another quick update. Once more un-beta-ed (you hate me, i know. my beta is busy though and i don't care enough to hand it out to side-editors i sometimes use (i just really love MY beta you guys! ugh)). Okay enjoy this!

note: i think i've been writing too many au's?

* * *

**Gamble**

* * *

"Check her out," Ino said with, according to Shikamaru, far too much admiration. "She is just so…. _badass._"

"I told you," Choji responded, smiling to himself as Shikamaru set down their drinks and took his seat in the booth. "They say she's never lost."

"That's impossible," Shikamaru said offhandedly, "everyone has lost at some point. Cards are, to some extent, about luck. That can't be honed."

"It certainly _is _possible," Ino shot back, stretching her neck to try and see above the crowd surrounding the table in back, which was pretty impossible. "How do you think she's got this reputation?"

"She is good," Choji said, soothing over both sides. "Regardless if she has won every game or not, there is no denying it: she is one—" he cleared his throat "—_badass_… poker player."

Ino nodded and Shikamaru shrugged. He hadn't wanted to go out tonight in the first place. Much less to this place, where Temari had built up a name for herself. No one came to this bar without the intention to watch—or play—cards with her. And Shikamaru had no interest in doing either. Especially with _her_.

Ino had a very different expectation of the night. She was the one who had invite—-forced, rather—Choji and him to come.

"I hear she's also really attractive," Choji noted, "we should go over at some point and watch a round."

Attractive? Yeah, so Shikamaru couldn't really deny that. Temari was attractive. Hot, really. And sexy. Definitely sexy.

"You should play her, Shikamaru." Ino declared after taking a swig of her drink. "If anyone can beat her, it's you."

"You might be overestimating him," Choji countered, purposefully baiting him on. "This girl is supposedly pretty smart. She might be smarter than Shikamaru."

She wasn't, but Shikamaru wasn't about to say something so revealing to his friends.

"Please," Ino defended, "Shikamaru is the smartest guy in the world."

He sighed, "well that's certainly an exaggeration."

There was a whooping and applause over by her table. The majority of the patrons were all over there now, if they weren't standing by the bar and drinking.

"She won," Ino said quietly, leaning in, "_told you_."

Choji turned around to look at the seemingly impenetrable crowd surrounding her table. "Maybe you _should_ play her," he decided, "even if she wins, you could certainly give her a run for her money."

"I'd rather not give anyone a run for anything." Though he was beginning to be somewhat swayed by the idea. He would be interested to play. He would be more interested to beat her.

"You're scared to lose, aren't you?"

He shrugged again. It was better than explaining his reasoning.

"Shikamaru Nara," Ino said lowly, "you go over there and play the next game or so help me I'll—"

Rather than hearing her threat, Shikamaru waved his hand. "Fine, fine, I'll do it." He was bound to see her anyway. Plus, he had a feeling Ino had brought him here specifically so he _would _play, which meant she wouldn't give up until Shikamaru agreed to sit for a round. Might as well get it over with.

Shikamaru stood and made his way over to the crowd. It took some effort, but he was able to push through it. In the center, on one side of a square wood table, Temari sat, shuffling a deck of red and white cards. Her bangs were pulled back with a barrette and she was grinning to herself. She was probably already twenty-four now, but he couldn't remember when her birthday was and if had passed yet.

"Who's next?" She asked, looking at the cards.

"I'll play," Shikamaru said, stepping into the circle. There was a beat and then Temari looked up. He could see the moment her eyes caught something familiar against his hip and slowly wandered up to see his face in confirmation. She was surprised, certainly, but after a moment, she regained her composure and gave a very sly smile.

"Excuse me," a middle-aged man beside him said, "I'm actually next in line. There is a queue, you know."

Temari, still staring at Shikamaru, held up her hand. "No," she said coolly, "let him play." She finally flicked her eyes to the man in line, "sorry. Remind me next time you're here, and you'll be the first on my list. This will be my last game of the night."

The man opened his mouth to protest, but Temari had already moved on. She gestured to the seat across from her and Shikamaru sighed, moving in to take it. "Last game of the night?"

Temari smirked. "Don't think I forgot the circumstances of how we met," she said calmly. Shikamaru's face remained passive and she stuck out the deck, "cut," she ordered, and after he did, she took the cards back and began to deal.

"So why are you playing this game tonight, Nara?" She asked, going back to a last-name basis. "You don't appear to be seeking a challenge."

Shikamaru shrugged. I'm terrified of that skinny little blonde girl over there, rightly so? "Maybe I just wanted some entertainment," he said instead.

Temari finished dealing and he picked up his cards. She watched him carefully, taunting: "and is this entertaining you?"

He looked over his hand and then back up at her. It'd been around a year since he'd last seen her. A little less. Even though he'd expected it to, he didn't like the acceleration his pulse experienced when looking at her. But he was very interested to see where this game would lead. He wondered if he would've come had Ino not prompted him. Probably.

"It certainly is."

Temari gave him one last grin before she too picked up her cards.

"So," she asked casually, "what's your ante?"

"Don't you usually bet drinks?" He asked.

"Okay then, one round of drinks, on the loser."

He nodded and the game began.

"So," Temari continued, "it's been a long time, Nara."

"Since the end of that class," he answered.

Temari chuckled half-heartedly. "And how is your…" she thought it over, "senior year going?"

"Classes start on Monday."

"Ah," she said, mixing around the order of her cards, deciding her best options.

"And you? How's graduate school?"

"I'm not complaining."

He didn't respond and as she continued shuffling her cards around, Shikamaru took one and moved it, letting the others remain.

"So?" She asked after a minute, "raising the stakes?"

Shikamaru met her gaze and shrugged. "If you'd prefer."

The corners of her lips turned up. "I would."

"I have only $100 in my wallet, maybe."

"I thought you used to carry around tons of cash, daddy's money and all that."

"Oh right," he said, remembering exactly when they had called it off, "I bought a new place."

She laughed, "finally. That bed was horrible."

"For disliking it so much, you sure liked to sleep in it." He responded, all intents and purposes meant in every implied way. Her smile didn't waver, but Temari glanced up at him, eyes narrowing.

She spoke slowly, and with a hint of malice. "By the time I fell asleep, I was usually too worn out to care, is all. So, one-hundred then?"

Shikamaru felt his chest heat and a wayward flare in his groin spark. He slowly leaned back in his chair and nodded.

"I'll match," she said. And he set down his cards to reach into his pocket. He slipped a four twenties and two tens from his pocket. He only had a five left. He placed the bet on the table between them. She followed suit with her own money.

"Did you two used to date?" Someone from the crowd asked. Without looking over his shoulder to where the voice had come from, Shikamaru replied. "No."

Temari only looked at him, her sly smile taunting and much too familiar.

Shikamaru pulled out two cards and laid them face down on the table. With his finger tips, he pushed them towards her. "I'd like to draw two."

Avoiding brushing hands, she pulled the cards away from him and handed him two more from the deck. He pulled them towards himself but didn't turn them over. "What are you staring at?" She asked.

Shikamaru looked down quickly, a moment later regretting that decision. She had asked him the same question once before, a year and a half ago. He wondered if she remembered. They had also been in a bar then, a much crappier one right off campus. He had been staring at her the whole night and finally, right before he was about to leave, she confronted him. "You," he had replied. "You're the grad-student assisting in my economics class." She had nodded and said she remembered him.

"You look young," she'd said. He'd only shrugged. It was a fourth-year course, she probably thought he was only a year or two below her. He didn't want to tell her he was only nineteen. She was beautiful and smart, already accomplished. Certainly going for older guys, but he had wanted her to go for him.

"Nothing," he replied. Temari raised her brows suspiciously and then setting down her own cards—three—and drawing for herself. He wouldn't accuse her of cheating as dealer, but he would be suspicious if it were anyone else.

Temari looked at her cards, face blank. Shikamaru vaguely wondered what the people around them were thinking. Were they interested in the game? Shikamaru certainly wasn't. He was more interested in her.

"Any bets?" Temari asked after a while, shutting her hand and placing it on the table face-down.

Shikamaru sighed, "I'm not folding, but I'm out of money."

"If I win," she offered, "you have clean my house. Dishes and toilets and everything."

He considered this, nodding. "And if I win?"

Temari bit her lip, thinking. Her expression then changed to a very small and very sly smirk. "If you win, you can take me home tonight."

His groin tightened as soon as the words left her mouth, but he worked hard to keep his expression blank. "I don't understand how I benefit from it?" The crowd had already stirred when she made the offer, but now there were a series of murmurs and out of the corner of his eye, Shikamaru thought he saw some money being transferred.

Across from him, Temari's mouth fell into a hard line, eyes narrow. "If you don't see any benefit for you, there is no need to keep it. Propose something else."

Shikamaru didn't really have to think about it, and there was no point in playing dumb when he knew exactly what coming home with him—_her coming home with him—_would mean.

"I'll take it." He said. "But, I'll raise you as well. If I win, you try it out. You don't limit it to sex, like last time."

Temari's expression changed once again, lips slightly parted and eyes burning into his, and he wondered how so many people could lose to her playing poker when she was so easy to read.

"If I win?"

"I won't come clean your place, but I'll hire a maid to work for you. For three months."

Temari inhaled deeply, glancing down at her cards. When she looked back up at him, she was giving him that sly smile again. "It's a deal."

Shikamaru nodded and turned to the side. Ino and Choji were standing there now, and he wondered if they had put it together by now. By Ino's expression, it was fairly obvious that she had realized that professor's assistant he was sleeping with spring semester of last year had been Temari, the poker-player Ino had heard so much about. Choji's face was blank, but when he saw Shikamaru looking at him, he nodded in encouragement.

"Do you really think you'll win?" Temari asked, eyes going back and forth between her hand and his face.

"I'll risk it." He said, watching her carefully. He didn't doubt he would win. Hadn't doubted it when he'd sat down half an hour before. And if, by some chance, he happened to lose, he didn't doubt she'd come home with him. Offering herself was somewhat akin to expressing interest in having sex with him again, wasn't it? And when Temari expressed interest in something, she very rarely didn't get her way.

Temari smiled, more honest and open than he had seen all night. Carefully, she laid out her cars, face-up, on the table. A good portion of the crowd whooped, and the people standing in the middle, unable to see either hand when they were hidden, started exchanging money back and forth.

"Well, Shikamaru," she said, and he chuckled at her use of his first name, "it looks like all your well earned money is mine," she continued, reaching out and beginning to pull the cash in the center of the table towards her end.

He waited a moment, cleared his throat, and then reached out to stop her, covering her fingers with his own. "You may want to check my cards before you go assuming things."

Temari gaped. Then shook her head. "I had a straight flush," she said quickly, "the only thing that can beat that is a royal flush and that's basically impossible to get. This isn't shogi, Shikamaru, this is half about luck, you can't win every game with your intelligence."

"Maybe not," he said, pulling his palm from her and, with his other hand, setting down his cards, "but I won this one."

* * *

oh boy.

okay leave reviews and/or requests! they are very helpful and _very _appreciated!

thank you again!


	6. The Kids Are Alright

****a/n: kind of back in my old style, though in a shorter version. inspired by a manga I once read. This is fulfilling a request from _applejax._

* * *

**The Kids Are Alright**

* * *

Shikamaru sets down his knife and uses his fork to stab a piece of his freshly cut steak. He isn't in a particularly nice restaurant. It's _okay,_ he figures. It's Asuma's favorite, but he thinks the guy doesn't have really high standards. It _is _near work though, right down the street, in fact, which is enough for him. It's convenient, and Shikamaru tends to avoid things that aren't.

He lifts his fork and takes a piece of meat into his mouth.

Asuma is talking to him about something. It has to do with work, but it is anecdotal and not very important.

Shikamaru, on the other hand, is keeping the counter in the corner of his eye while simultaneously pretending, more to himself, really, that he has his full attention on his food. Or Asuma. He can't remember which one he is supposed to act more inclined towards.

Out of the corner of his eye, she stands up from her stool and reaches over the counter for the plastic bag. She takes her food and exchanges a word with the waiter before stepping away. Shikamaru's head is turned now, fully facing her. She carries her takeout in one hand as she maneuvers through the tables to the door. It is pretty cold outside and she is wearing a coat.

Before she leaves, she turns her head in his precise direction, probably aware of his eyes the whole time. The corner of her lips crease and she raises a hand. Her wrist flicks to the right in a slight wave. He gives a light smile back to her, and after another second, she leaves. The bells on the door clink on her way out. It really is a crappy place to be eating steak.

"Hmph," Asuma snorts, watching the exchange before taking a long sip of his drink. Shikamaru waits until he puts his glass down. He swallows and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Rough few weeks, huh?"

Shikamaru rests his chin in his hand and looks away from the door Temari just walked out of. He shrugs. "Yeah, but it'll be all right."

* * *

He thought he saw her in the restaurant. He wasn't quite positive. After all, it'd been six or seven years, and it was a given that she'd look very different. But he was pretty sure it was her.

Considering he hadn't actually _thought _about her in a long time, it seemed unlikely that she would just pop up in his imagination now, so he allowed that there was a possibility that it _was _her. Sometimes things like that happened.

Sometimes people came into your life one more time. He figured it was nothing. A few years ago, he ran into a friend from high school. He didn't remember this guy that much, but this guy had remembered him. They'd bumped into one another in a restaurant much nicer than the one Shikamaru had seen _her_ in. The guy had sat next to him and they'd talked for about half an hour before they parted ways.

It was only by coincidence that they met. They hadn't exchanged contact information or anything. It was a big city, but sometimes you see someone or something from your past.

He'd thought it was the same with her. He'd seen her eating with someone else. He'd glanced at her. And then when it hit him, he'd looked for her again, but she was gone.

He figured that would be it. He could have talked to her, but he didn't. If he was given the chance again, which he doubted he would be, he might do it the same way. After all, he had no idea what he wanted to say to her. He didn't _really _care how she was doing. He certainly didn't think about her or anything.

Anyway; it might not have even been her. There was no way to know for sure.

He didn't forget about it easily though. Or maybe he would have, but he wasn't given much of an opportunity.

That was during lunch, and when he got back into the office, he saw her again. And this time he knew it was her. There wasn't much of a doubt this time.

* * *

"Nara," Asuma said, putting a hand on Temari's back, "this is your new author."

He hadn't said anything. He was too surprised.

She looked exactly as the girl in the restaurant had — though he acknowledged that it was possible the girl in the restaurant _wasn't actually her _—, hair longer and clothes sharp and business-like.

He didn't even wear such nice outfits if he could help it.

"Oh."

"You two know might actually know each other," Asuma said, "you went to the same high school."

"It was a big school," Shikamaru responded. Temari was looking at him, but he kept his eyes away.

There was an slow pause, before Asuma cleared his throat. "Shame. Well, Temari has just moved back to Japan and we represent the rights to her japanese novels, so her publisher sent her here. I've put you in temporary charge as her editor, as we're a little short on available staff right now."

Shikamaru gave a slow nod and finally glanced down to look at her. "You have a new book?"

"An extended essay," she answered.

"I know nothing about physics or engineering or shit like that."

Asuma laughed, "he is a quick learner," his chief said, "don't worry. I'm sure you'll work great together."

* * *

They took the elevator up to his office in relative silence until the end.

It was stifling and hot and he had no idea how to act around her. So he ignored it, for the most part. She had a habit of annoying him with her presence.

Temari too, didn't seem to have any inclination to say anything for half a minute.

"How are your friends?" She asked eventually. They were side by side and both facing the doors. He had his hands in his pockets.

He grunted. "Good."

A few seconds passed with only the whirring of the lift-pulley again.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again." She said, not really trying for any conversation and not at a loss of how to start something, just as a clear-cut statement.

The doors opened. Shikamaru stepped out and she followed.

"Same here." He turned the corner and lead the way down the hall to his office. "I honestly kind of forgot about you."

She didn't say anything more on the personal topic and neither did he. But she didn't seem very affected by his very rude and very grossly inappropriate words.

He wondered why he'd said it. And why she didn't react.

* * *

He never really forgot about her.

He knew that.

He certainly acknowledged it.

He didn't _think _about her. But he remembered her. Maybe all of it. Maybe not.

He wondered how much she knew. Or remembered, actually.

He also wondered why she had chosen to come back to Japan. There must be some reason he was unaware of. She had brothers. One of them ran a huge investment firm downtown. He wondered if anything serious had happened to make her come back.

Or maybe she was just homesick.

He didn't know. He didn't pretend to know. He never really knew anything about her. Honestly, it was a little bit ridiculous that he was her temporary editor. Out of the dozens of others in his department, he'd been assigned to her. That was odd, wasn't it?

* * *

_"Faster_,_" _he'd managed, gritted through his teeth, head hanging because, jesus, the effort to hold his head high took too much thought and too much skill and her hands were flying over his cock, light and fast, and just _fuck. _

She was too good at this. _Too good. _He didn't understand, and god, the noises he was making were certainly horrible enough to make him understand that they were loud and humiliating, which was saying something considering he could barely process a complete thought.

Temari had him pinned against the wall of the boy's locker room, as she had done so many times recently, his erection half pulled from his sweats, lips locked around the back of his hand to maybe, _possibly_, muffle the sounds he was currently emitting.

But _oh christ her fingers_. _HOW? _He had been doing the exact same thing to himself for years before this, and not once had it ever been with this kind of technique. It's not like she learned by practicing on herself. Did she practice on other men?

Temari rubbed a thumb over the tip and Shikamaru shook, groaning and biting into the flesh of his hand hard enough to break skin. He was close.

There was a sound from her and he managed to open his eyes, barely, through the haze of tears from over-flow of emotions, and see her looking down at where her hands flew over him, faster and faster, and he managed — barely, because _shit _— to place both palms on her shoulders and try to push her. Or grip onto her. He wasn't sure.

"I'm… I… Te—"

She took the hint, though not really in the way he'd meant, and rubbed her thumb over his tip one more time. Shikamaru came, shaking. It was harder than he'd come last time.

His hands fell from her shoulders and his knees gave out, leaving him slumped on the floor in a heap of sweaty drawstring pants and his spent cock sitting listlessly, dirty.

Temari only stood there, messy hand still held a few inches away from her. She was breathing hard, her pants a counter-point to his heavy, slow breaths. Her cheeks were red and sweat beaded on her neck and even in his half-conscious state he registered the fact that he — even after so many weeks — could still hardly wrap his head around _Temari_.

Shikamaru woke up with a start.

His bed was wet from his sweat, a dark V staining his collar. He was also sporting a massive hard-on, painful and throbbing beneath his shorts.

But he did nothing about it, even with the ache.

Why now?

Why was he dreaming about her — about _that _— _now_? It had been years since then. Years.

Was it because he'd seen her again? Could that have anything to do with it? Probably.

But it wasn't like when he saw her, he only thought about those evenings in the locker room. He didn't. He hadn't.

Shikamaru groaned and, pushing into his mind some stupid porn he'd seen two weeks before, started to emulate exactly what Temari had taught him.

* * *

Work didn't change. He hadn't seen her since the day they were re-introduced. She sent him a very rough draft, he reviewed it and faxed it back to her, notes on the paper, more through email, and a few problem areas discussed by phone.

He was usually more actively involved with his authors. He would meet with them once a week or so, maybe once every two weeks when they're still just drafting out their work. All other communication is done through email and the like — but with Temari, he limited things.

He didn't ever propose a personal meeting and she never said anything.

He wondered if she knew that he was being less involved with her in comparison to his other authors? He wondered what she thought.

Then he got upset when he realized he was thinking about her.

She annoyed him. Deftly.

But he'd allow certain qualities- she does her work well. And efficiently. It had been two weeks since she'd first come to his company and she already had an almost-complete work done. She wanted to add a few lines, but otherwise her essay was ready to go to print.

It was impressive. She'd had all her information. She'd known what she wanted to say. He worked with non-fiction, but not essays and never science publications. But had she been anyone else with her work ethic, he would have been honored to represent her.

But she wasn't. And so he wasn't.

* * *

They go out for drinks when the essay goes out to print. Her research team. Her agent. Asuma. Sales. They're all there.

He liked to watch her. It was odd, considering he didn't particularly _like _looking at her, or rather, liked looking at her when she was looking at him. But he did like to watch her.

Shikamaru wasn't stupid.

Smart actually.

Quite smart.

And he knew what the signs of attraction were. He'd been attracted to dozens of men and women during his lifetime.

He knew exactly what the draw was. What the image was. He knew it with Temari too, more so, as he'd actually _seen _it.

She was sitting across from him and one over, talking with her agent and a member of her research team. Her face was glowing. Her lips were red. She looked beautiful.

He wanted to have long, hard, capricious, _superlative_ sex with her.

It annoyed the fuck out of him.

* * *

"Why were you watching me?"

He had been assigned to catch her a cab by his chief. They're alone now. Shikamaru stood on the edge of the pavement, scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, hands shoved in his coat pockets.

"I wasn't." A stupid denial.

"Hmph."

Cars pass by, but none of them are yellow.

Neither of them say anything. The lights over the intersection down the road changed back and forth.

"You said you've forgotten…" Temari said tonelessly. He could feel her eyes on his cheekbone, but he didn't turn his head. "But I remember… all of it."

His head snapped toward her, chest suddenly clenching and blood pounding in his ears.

Their eyes met. Her expression was hard. But also asking. He wasn't sure what she wanted and he knew he had no way nor inclination to give her anything.

"I remember everything." She finished.

Shikamaru looked at her, long and steady, before exhaling and looking away. From the distance, a cab approached. He leaned forward and extended his arm to hail it down.

Temari stepped beside him, toes falling off the curb. She wasn't watching the cab. It came to a stop before them and finally, he looked down at her to gesture her away. "Did you really forget?"

Shikamaru blinked and gave no answer.

There was a beat and then the cabbie honked.

Temari stepped away and onto the road, pulling open the door. "I'll see you around," he said as she slipped inside, "…take care of yourself."

* * *

They saw one another the next week. They're in the elevator again — accidentally this time. She is there to negotiate an extension of her contract. Apparently, she liked working there.

He ran for the lift and she held open the door.

Barely a nod and that's all.

* * *

Shikamaru hated smoking. Hated it.

But there he was, sitting on the floor by his bed, head leaning back against the mattress, glasses perched on his nose and cigarette dangling between his lips. In his hand, lifted up to eye-level, are the statistics on Temari's essay's sales.

It was selling well for such selective genre. Really well. She was giving a speech on it next week in Osaka at a large convention for physicists. She was famous. He forgot sometimes.

Shikamaru flipped through her papers.

He'd read her books before.

Well. Not really.

He'd read reviews of them though.

She was a physics professor and was often on political talk shows and shit like that. She'd written two books already and a dozen articles. He had actually read one of the articles, but that was when she was first published in a high brow newspaper and he was just starting out as an intern for the company. In some half-ass initiative he'd taken back then, he'd read a lot of articles.

He'd kept with her, anyway.

He was loath to acknowledge it, but he did. Very passively, but the intention still existed.

He was always analyzing her. Analyzing everything. Over and over.

She was on the student's committee back then. He wasn't. Against it, actually. It wasn't that he ever did bad shit. He just didn't particularly _like _class. He didn't _really_ like showing up to things he didn't like.

They'd often find him in the field or on the roof during the day. Just lying there.

She was often in charge of disciplining him.

And then one day, completely out of the blue, he'd been getting out of swim practice and she'd been let out of track and they were in the gym and she started yelling at him for staying late. And then, as he was trying to leave, she somehow managed to pin him against the wall and he was suddenly hard and then she was tugging at him and he was helping her and they were both breathing heavy.

And he never knew why.

Or why he stayed late the next practice.

Or the one after that.

Or why she let him. Why she _did that _to him. Every week, over and over until graduation came and he never saw her again.

He came to hate her, he realized, exhaling the smoke after a particularly long drag. Sighing, Shikamaru slipped off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. _ I came to hate her. And then I did nothing but watch as she disappeared from my sight. _He groaned. _ I let it happen. _

* * *

"You have a bigger room than mine," Temari said carefully.

Shikamaru stood by the open door. It was early evening, but he'd been asleep. The arrival to Osaka had started early and ended late. He was exhausted. Much too tired to deal with her, in the least.

"Don't you think the author should have a bigger room than her editor?"

Shikamaru yawned and walked toward her, shutting the door behind him

She sat down on the edge of his ruffled bed. He stood in front of her.

"Why are you here?"

Temari inclined her head. "It's been grating on me. I wanted to tell you — I followed you in the paper." She said. "Followed your work."

Shikamaru perked up, wayward tiredness inching away. "Huh?"

"I saw your name on things, editing for some big time people."

"You knew I worked here?"

Temari shrugged.

"'I honestly never thought I'd see you again'?" Shikamaru gave a sharp exhale. "What a lie."

"It was the only company I knew in Japan." She justified quickly.

"You want to work with me?" He continued, ignoring her comment. His voice got louder. "If you wanted to work with me, you never had to leave the country in the first place!"

She was the one who'd left. She could have stayed. She could've explained what their quasi, half-ass relationship had meant. She could have stayed. He could've — _fuck it, should have _— chased after her.

She opened her mouth to say something.

It was wishful, ignorant thinking. It was only chance that they'd been placed together. Only coincidence. They're dozens of editors in the non-fiction department. Dozens.

But she didn't contradict him.

* * *

It had been one month after they'd met again that she sat down at his table.

He was in that crappy restaurant, eating a salad when those annoying bells clinked.

He didn't look up from his meal until she sat down at the empty seat across from him.

He was surprised. They hadn't talked at all since she left his hotel room back in Osaka, which had been a handful of days before.

Shikamaru looked at her, perplexed. She was still wearing her coat and didn't seem at all inclined to settle down.

He hadn't invited her there. He didn't know why she'd come.

They sat in silence for a full minute before she opened her mouth.

"I knew you'd hate it if I pursued you. I knew you hated me. I'd knew it… I _know that, _but —"

Shikamaru set down his fork, effectively cutting her off. "I never forgot about the things you did to me." There was another pause. He could feel his pulse pounding again. "Not a single thing."

His groin was hot.

His gut too. And his chest. As well as his head.

Temari didn't say anything more. And neither did he.

Eventually she stood up, pushing her chair back. He was watching her again. Perhaps more intently than the last time at the bar. Or maybe not.

Temari stepped past him, pausing only to place a gloved hand on his shoulder. He was too hot and he didn't understand why, considering he was well into his late twenties and not allowed to act like one horny, hung up school-kid.

"I'll see you around." She said.

Shikamaru exhaled lowly and looked down at his food. He'd lost his appetite. "Take care of yourself."

* * *

His steak is over-cooked. It always is at this joint. He really dislikes it here. His fondness for it's crap food and shitty service is only born out of wayward appreciation for it's overall horrible quality.

Temari is sitting by the counter. She's probably order food to go. She does that sometimes. She lives near the company. They'd both grown up in Shikoku. She supposedly didn't know Tokyo really well and had just bought an apartment in the area she found convenient.

Asuma is saying something. Shikamaru isn't quite paying attention. He finishes chewing his piece of steak and swallows.

From the corner of his eye, Temari stands up and reaches for her food across the counter. It is in a white plastic bag, and she grabs the handles in one hand and straightens her coat with the other.

She begins making her way through the tables to the door. When she reaches the end, she glances at him then, knowing exactly where to look. He wonders how long she's known he has been watching her.

She gives a small smile and lifts her hand in a small wave.

He responds and then after one more look, she turns and leaves. Shikamaru takes another piece of steak.

"Hmph," Asuma snorts, watching the exchange before taking a long sip of his drink. Shikamaru waits until he puts his glass down. He swallows and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Rough few weeks, huh?"

Shikamaru shifts position and shrugs. "Yeah, but it'll be all right."

* * *

okay! let me know what you think! also,_ Kim Demon _has a pretty cool sounding beta/authors pairing program, so check out her profile if that's something you're interested in. I'm definitely considering it.

Leave requests and reviews! They're the nicest greatest thing in the world.


	7. Give Me Fire

a/n: okay this one is odd. it is shikamaru-centric and with an OC. remember at the end of chapter 4? i said i wanted to use my otp from _City Hunter _in another scene? Well this is it. I highly recommend the show (the korean action one) and if you were to watch it, you would know exactly _why _Taro (or yoon-sung) is wearing the prosecutor's clothing. (bet you'd want to know if shikamaru is right or not?) anyway, yeah, watch it.

also, is no one going to mention my gross over-use of alexz johnson's new ep in my title choosing?

* * *

**Give Me Fire**

* * *

He had never liked Taro. There was something about him he found very annoying; in the way he walked, his back, his mannerisms, his overall mood in general. Perhaps there was a likeness to himself that he recognized. And that in itself was annoying.

And he very much disliked him for it. Not to mention, when they met, a year or so before, he had been investigating a woman Taro was sleeping with, and the man had explained that he was… well, sexually loose, and had long ago lost her number.

Nara had never taken to men like that. How arrogant and self-centered must one be to treat relationships so passively and carelessly?

He looked down on one night stands. Always had.

And so he looked down on Taro.

But that had been only plain dislike. Now, his distain for the man was much more of a certain hate.

He'd had to interact with the man before, but only sporadically, and only because he always happened to be somehow conveniently connected to Nara's investigations. There was something suspicious about him, and he couldn't quite put a finger on it. It was annoying, but nothing to be consistently in arm's over.

He'd never _really _hated him until last month, at the hotel. He'd been there to attend a birthday party with Temari. They'd gone together out of convenience and a tentative friendship. Then he'd been called away for work and had to leave her. When he went back to find her later on, there was Taro standing in only a robe, and in the doorway behind him, Temari.

She was angry at him, and so she hadn't bothered to explain anything-and jesus, she had no obligation too—and rationally he _knew _they weren't having sex, but nevertheless, he now loathed Taro.

Had for the past month.

But _fuck_, he wasn't some light-footed man. He didn't go chasing after Temari's new boyfriend. Or possible boyfriend. Or anything like that. It wasn't his place and she hadn't been his responsibility for a long time—she made these decisions on her own and he wasn't so hot-headed as to confront Taro.

And it was okay. His job kept him too busy during the day to think about it and there were only so many hours during the night that he was awake to concentrate. He was used to life since she left him. It was a wound, he'd allow, but not a burning one.

In short: he maintained his loathing for Taro, but he didn't jeopardize the investigation by biasing him unjustly—he kept his personal feelings out of it.

Until now, as they were both in the bathroom of the Kantei—Nara due to the investigation, Taro because he worked in the security office—standing beside one another. Nara had thought he'd known it earlier in the office, but now, seeing Taro up close, it was easily confirmed.

The air in the room was quiet, and the only sound was the running water as Nara washed his hands, though he found it fairly arguable that his heart was beating loud enough for anyone in a three-mile radius to hear.

Taro stood with his back to the prosecutor, in front of the paper towels. Nara had a feeling he was waiting to be confronted.

His blood was pumping and his head was hot. He turned off the water. In a low voice, he ground out, "that suit…" he took a heady breath, "that tie…." Nara could hear himself. He sounded angry—angrier than he'd ever heard himself sound, actually. He hadn't even expected such a dark tone to emit.

It wasn't like he needed confirmation. He knew the clothes fit snuggly to Taro's form—the man was a good inch taller and slightly bigger than himself—were his own. He knew it without needing to ask. He figured he'd left them back at his old house, along with a handful of meaningless belongings. But they weren't things one just bought at any store. He recognized them. He recognized the use and wear in them as his own.

But he'd asked and so Taro confirmed it anyway. "Ah." He smirked, tone carrying a light lilt. Shrugging his shoulders, he reached for the paper towels. "You're right. It's yours. I got them from a doctor who was…." he paused and wiped his hands dry, "looking after me," he finished smugly.

Nara's breath got hotter and his clothes suddenly felt very constricting. He narrowed his eyes and loosened his tie.

It wasn't a hint now. It wasn't _rational _thought to think she wasn't sleeping with him. He had more than enough evidence on the contrary. Men didn't just borrow clothes when they didn't need to. And he _knew_ Taro, he'd investigated him _over and ove_r, and he wasn't the kind of man to seek help from others if he could help it.

He had fucked her. Like one of the _dozens _of women he took to nice hotels after a night at the club and treated to good wine and good food and probably great sex and then left in the morning and forgot about by noon and jesus christ, he could have had _anyone else! Anyone_.

"Are all your relationships with women this light?"

Taro turned around and threw away the towel. "I had a reason to borrow them, so I wore them." As though ending the conversation at that, Taro turned around and walked out of the bathroom.

Nara's pulse peaked, if possible, and he ran out after him, "what?"

"Luckily," Taro continued, walking down the hall. "I don't like wearing other's clothes, so I won't do it again."

He stopped and turned sharply to face Nara, smirk in place. "But isn't it funny how upset you are over something that is supposed to be over?"

Nara had no idea what he was doing anymore.

He had let his personal feelings go and he was so far out of the ballpark on right and wrong and protocol and the law and _assault._

And without a moment's hesitation, he leapt forward and pinned Taro to the wall, forearm pressing precariously against his jugular.

Of course it was over. Of course it was. It wasn't a break and it wasn't a separation. It was divorce. Plain and simple. And he was over it. He was. This wasn't about the fact that he still had feelings for her. This was about Taro and, more specifically, Taro _fucking _his— _ex-_wife; fucking_… Temari. _

Nara leaned forward, breath wetting Taro's face. "Temari," he breathed, "Temari is a pitiful person. She needs to meet someone… _better than you._"

Taro didn't falter from the physical force nor the position, eyes challenging and completely lacking hesitation. "And what's so wrong with me?"

"She's too innocent to be toyed with by a person like you!" Nara snapped.

Bullshit. They both knew it.

Temari was smart and willed and clever and would never be taken in by some man with any scheme of manipulation. If they'd slept together, she'd be as willing as her partner. Nara knew that. He _knew it_. But she _wasn't _his wife. And she was _free _to take home whomever she wanted. But she was better. She was _so much better. _And she _deserved better— _than either of them.

Taro was pushing him. Nara knew that. He was baiting him and edging him on. And it suddenly struck Nara hard in the gut that he wasn't being protective or careful. He was jealous. Painfully and _stupidly _jealous.

The man was angry now, and he raised his voice. "Who said I was toying with her?" Nara saw red, and he pushed harder into Taro's throat, but his will was short lived as the words washed over him. When Taro lifted his hands to push Nara backwards, he moved, stumbling for a moment before regaining his balance.

"Aren't you scared that I might be sincere?" Taro rubbed his throat, face red. "Isn't that what this is! Aren't you scared that I might actually be sincere?"

There was a quick cut off, and Taro took a sharp breath.

He was right. He was very right.

Nara wasn't scared of him taking advantage. He was scared of Temari falling for someone else.

Taro had all the qualities. The brains, the looks, the _charm, _and it would be so easy for him to have her.

And she must _hate _Nara. She hated him for not putting her first. For not being understandable or available. For abandoning her and for not trying harder to chase after her.

And he was scared—_terrified—_that she might actually fall in love with Taro.

Because, in his own, very wrong way, he was still _very much _in love with her.

The hall was silent apart from their breath and pumping blood in their veins. Some might call it testosterone and some might call it ego but both of them knew it was neither. It was the prosecutor and his fucked up issues with the fact that he was still in love with his ex-wife.

"Prosecutor Nara," Taro said eventually, voice calm, "why don't you deal with settling your feelings." And with that, he straightened his stance and fixed his clothes. "You know where to find me."

Then he turned and walked down the hall. Nara remained, gaze fixed on a blank spot on the wall.

* * *

many thanks to appy-appy for reading this beforehand (and the other version where we hear taro's pov) and for helping me through the best way to tell it.

thanks for all the reviews from last time.

and give me requests and reviews now! I command!

(but seriously they really are the greatest, so in all humble sincerity, please send them my way.)


	8. Swallowed

a/n: okay another quick update. This one was co-written (basically my story board and **heathrowe's **writing because am going au-mode these days, so give appreciation to her because she is a great author and a joy to work with/ mentor (because she is a child and knows nothing)).

This fulfills a request from _Lauren j. _for them in a war. Hopefully it filled the request well.

* * *

**Swallowed**

* * *

"What do you think?"

"About?"

"Tomorrow."

Shikamaru glanced up from the papers before him and raised his brows at her. He wondered how long she had been awake. Temari waited. He sighed and resumed his reading, "it doesn't look good."

Temari gave a small laugh and rolled onto her back. "Don't give me vague, half-ass answers now, Shikamaru."

The corners of his lips quirked and he absently ran a hand through his loose hair. The smile was only a pretense though. His body was hot, probably from the sex, but his blood ran cold. Both of them were running on lead now. Exhausted and hungry and worn and so fucking terrified that he was surprised he wasn't empty at this point.

He stretched his legs beneath the makeshift desk in the makeshift house which was really just a few boards stuck together pretending to provide shelter. It worked though- well enough, and had for the past three years.

"Are you scared," she asked.

Temari was on the bed, one leg bent and propped up. She had fallen asleep pretty soon after. He'd had trouble sleeping recently. Always, actually. It had been a favorite pastime of his growing up, and he did it frequently, he just never had done it really _well_. Now his insomnia was worse.

Shikamaru looked back up from the desk. Her head was turned and she was staring at him, waiting patiently for an answer. "Yeah."

"You aren't scared often."

"Not when I don't have a reason to be."

"But you're scared now?"

"Yes."

"God," she said, staring back up at the ceiling. She threw her forearm above her head and it landed back on the bed with a light thud, "you're such a girl."

"Aren't you?" He defended.

Temari thought about this for a moment and then shrugged. "I think I've accepted it."

"Death?"

She rolled onto her side to fully face him, nodding. Temari could sleep. He had been surprised the first time they had sex: how quickly she fell asleep afterwards. It wasn't like they were really _fucking_. It wasn't really hard or long or tiring. But she always slept. Dense and well and deep. There were times he thought she might have been sick or something, so light was her breath and heavy her eyelids.

But her sleep was always short. Usually she didn't stay the whole night, waking up after an hour or two and then leaving. Then there were some days when she didn't leave. He thought that maybe, on those days, she wanted company.

He watched as her fingers danced over the curve of her hip. The pads of her finger tips were rough and dry, but somehow the skin of her stomach and thighs remained soft throughout the war. He had found himself wondering before, whether her skin would be even softer had he ever touched her outside the war. He huffed, looking away. "Stupid," he said absently.

"I'm being realistic," she justified, "if we're going to die, I might as well fight my best without any wayward expectations. If I'm too concerned about staying alive, I probably won't kill as many people as I would have."

Shikamaru sighed and looked back up at her. He wondered whether she was kind of relieved or not. Would it be easier to die? He wondered whether he kind of felt the same way.

"That's an awfully narrow minded view, don't you think?"

She licked her lips without giving answer.

"What about all the things you could do if you lived? You could see Kankuro again."

"No use thinking about that." He watched as she sat up and stretched. "You said it yourself, Shikamaru. 'It doesn't look good.'"

"I didn't say we were going to die."

Temari rolled her eyes. "Are we going to die?"

He gave a shrug. "Yeah, I'd say so."

Temari nodded and then threw her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. She walked over to him. He watched her movement carefully, the locomotion of limbs, one step in front of the other. It was autumn, and much too cool to be so idly naked, but besides the hardness of her nipples, she gave no inclination that she felt the cold. When she was before him, she leaned down and planted her lips on his.

The kiss was hard and heavy and kind of depressing. When she was done, she straightened and walked back to bed. This time she fell onto her stomach, facing him with her chin propped in her hands.

Shikamaru continued to watch her. He never really got sick of it. But he wasn't really aroused. His bones felt weak and brittle.

"What about kids?" He prodded. "You'll never have kids. Or get married. Don't you want to do those things?"

"What's your problem here?" Temari shifted in place. "Of course I'd _like _those things. But I've accepted my fate, isn't that the better thing to do?"

"I just don't like your mentality, is all."

"Mine seems significantly better than yours."

"I think if you have no inhibition about death, you're more reckless on the battlefield." Shikamaru rubbed a thumb over his lip. "…when you have nothing to lose, it's harder to win, I think."

Temari took a long breath, moving once more to sit up, crossing her legs beneath her. "Would you rather I go in with some prospect to live?"

He shrugged. slumping further in his seat. "I think so." He certainly had reasons to live; things he thought about every day.

"How about," she proposed, "if we both get out of this alive, we'll get married?"

Shikamaru stopped; then blinked. "Oh?"

"Is that enough incentive?"

He found it rather fitting that any sort of declaration of love would be said in such a manner between them.

They had been in this relationship for a little over a year now. Not particularly long. But even when they'd began that, it had seemed rather fitting. It wasn't difficult, they were both rather adaptable and easy and actually kind of pathetic people.

They had sex because sex was nice. They did it because they were lonely and broken. And they did it with each other because there had never really been anyone else.

Shikamaru licked his lower lip. "Well, will it give you incentive to stay alive?"

Temari thought his over and then shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

"We'll get married then."

"But we're going to probably die before that."

He thought it would probably be really nice to be married to her. He would add that to his list of things to do. "Yeah. Probably."

There was silence again as they sorted through their own separate thoughts.

"Would you really marry me?"

He glanced at her. "Yeah."

"Ah. You know, I always thought we would get married one day."

"You and I? What, are you in love with me or something?"

"Maybe."

"That's vague."

She shrugged.

"Well," he continued, "I might be in love with you too, if that's any consolation."

She didn't seem particularly surprised. "'Might be'?"

"I have no other references to go on."

"You've never had another girlfriend?"

"I've dated," he said in answer.

She smiled to herself and flipped over again to her back, lying sideways to the bed. "Too bad." She said softly.

"Hm?"

"About tomorrow."

"I thought you'd made peace with it."

"I have," she said, rubbing her eyes. "But I think I'd rather try with you."

He gave a small laugh.

There was more silence. Shikamaru went back to the documents in front of him. He was only rereading old papers or orders that probably didn't apply as Madara's army was proposed to arrive by noon the next day.

"Shikamaru," she said after a while, in a low drawl. "Come back to bed."

He sighed and stood up, stretching. On his way, he pulled off the thick sleeved shirt he'd donned earlier, as well as a pair of drawstring pants. He slipped beneath the covers and she moved to follow suit. They lay beside one another. Temari shifted and bumped her knee into his thigh, but didn't move away.

Staring at the ceiling, Shikamaru gave a low exhale. "You know," he said, "I am really happy you're here."

She rolled over and closed her eyes.

"I'm only guessing," he continued. "We've experienced miracles before."

"Eh."

"I'm only saying…" he rolled to his side and placed a hand on her ribcage, "I could be wrong, you know. I could be wrong about this."

Temari leaned into him. "No," she whispered quietly. "No, you're not. You never are." Outside, a strong gust of wind shook the house.

* * *

(edit:)reminder: I DID NOT WRITE ALL THIS! all the reviews are great, cause I definitely finalized/outlined the whole story, but beides my edits and the plot, the base of every sentence was heathrowe and it'd be really nice if in your reviews you give half to her. Seriously. I appreciate your kindness, but she takes credit for half of this.

...

I'm telling you guys. Fucking Alexz Johnson titles. I can't stop.

Please send more requests and reviews my way, they're really great and actually are what give me incentive to work!

Love.

p.s. who started watching city hunter?!


	9. Easy

a/n: it's like i'm no longer capable of writing smut. eh. this is the best i've got. pretty short. It _is _another alexz johnson song, but she renamed it "easy ain't sleazy" post epic-album, so I'm keeping the original title, which is just "Easy." yeah, just btw.

* * *

**Easy**

* * *

It didn't matter that she was with another man.

It didn't matter that she hadn't chosen him. He had never been the right choice to begin with.

All that mattered was that she wanted him. Maybe as much as he wanted her. Had for years now, or so she said, finger nails running down his scalp, biting into his skin and tugging, scratching and marking. Shikamaru was never one for frenzied kisses or wild sex. He enjoyed the slow build-up of love making, the excitement of patience and foreplay. He had never been the kind to enjoy quick passion. Why would he when the longer, golden version was so much more relieving?

But she wanted him.

And she was giving him this. And he had waited _so long _to take _anything _from her. So he took it.

Their lips weren't sliding together, but pushing and pulling. The kisses weren't awkward, their teeth only bumping out of the feverish quality of the act. His lips were wet, a line of moisture running from his mouth down his chin. Her hands were moving to his shoulders and over his back, standing up against the wall of her apartment.

Temari was groaning, low and dangerous into his mouth, her skin was hot where the pads of his fingers dug into her hips, slipped beneath her shirt.

He gripped her tightly, finger nails digging in as much as they could. Her tongue wove around his, wet and slimy and altogether erotic. She was pressing herself against him, body all lines and folded muscle.

He wondered how long she had wanted this. She seemed anxious enough.

Temari wasn't loose. She wasn't cheap and she certainly wasn't low. She wouldn't have pulled him up to her place if she didn't _want _it. He knew. Had she been wanton, he certainly could have had her ages ago. He'd made his attraction known half a decade before. But she was with someone else. She was with someone that wasn't him. He had told her his feelings, and she had refused. She'd said no, easy and straight.

Perhaps it was because she was with the other man first. Perhaps it was because the other man was older and from her home. Perhaps it was because she really was in love with him. Perhaps, Shikamaru just wasn't worth it.

And yet, there she had been, standing beside him on the street as he walked her home from the meeting, standing shoulder to shoulder and exchanging few words, and then suddenly-quite abruptly, really-reaching up and pulling him, unsuspecting, down.

It wasn't fair of her to kiss him. It wasn't fair of her to knot her hand into the hair at the base of his skull and slide their lips together. It wasn't fair of her to do this to him after _all this time. _

But it wasn't fair of him to go along with it.

It wasn't fair of him to reach around her and embrace the blunt kiss. It wasn't fair to walk the dozen steps to her apartment and attempt this brattish imitation of sex in her hallway.

Temari was pushing at his vest now, callused fingers reaching into his shirt from the collar, scratching and rubbing. He unwound his hands from hips and pushed off the vest before moving back to her body. Her mouth was still moving against his, hot and urgent.

But she stopped when his hand strayed down to momentarily cup her.

"Shikamaru," she managed haphazardly, "I—," she was shaking, and he stilled. The room silenced. Temari took a step away, heart pounding against her ribs and lips red. Her eyes ran over the floor before her. Her fists clenched together.

Regaining some sense, he spoke. "What are you doing, Temari?"

Her hands unclenched and then clenched over and over. She was still shaking. "Do you love her?"

He swallowed. "No."

"Did you really love me?" Her voice was small.

"I did." He said honestly. A pause. "I do."

She rubbed her eye. "I— I think… I want you." She took a step closer, hands raised and trembling. Her breath was uneven. She was confused. "I think about it all the time."

He didn't hesitate reaching for her again.

He wondered if it was possible to love two people at once. Perhaps she really did. Perhaps she _did _love Shikamaru. Maybe she was only with someone else because of wayward loyalty. Perhaps she hadn't made the right choice all those years ago. Maybe Shikamaru was the right choice.

But probably not.

"I love you." He managed. His whole body was hot, his toes curdled and sweat painted his hairline. He'd never wanted anything more in his life.

* * *

well.

anyway, I'm about done with this collection, so leave requests if there is anything you want to see before I finish it!

seriously though, I feel like I'm going to be out of ones soon. (p.s. more requests means more chapters!)

In regards.


	10. Mr Jones

a/n: I am in the middle of writing the final chapter but this came to me on my way home from lunch today, so yeah. looks like vol 1 will be 11 chapters instead of 10. also, on the new version of this song, the title is _The Affair (Mr. Jones)_, but I chose the original title. Also, the chapter is mostly dialogue.

* * *

**Mr. Jones**

* * *

Temari sat down on a loveseat facing the coffee table of the suite he'd rented out. Unsure how to dress, she'd chosen black jeans and, due to the quality of their hotel, heels. Over the past week, she'd taken to wearing sunglasses and scarves whenever leaving her apartment, but now they were piled on the bed and she felt significantly lighter. Although, having him across from her didn't add any ease.

"Did you find the place okay?" He asked lightly, standing by the window and gazing at her with a wayward look. He was in a suit. She bet he rarely wore anything else.

"For the most part." She hadn't wanted to be here. Was relatively terrified, actually. She didn't know what he wanted. She didn't know what she believed. Apart from the phone call yesterday asking to meet, she hadn't seen him or heard from him for a long time.

She hadn't wanted to get involved in this. She had stayed away from the whole case for the most part. She had ignored_ dozens _of calls from newspapers for _months_, and as soon as she thought it was over, it began again. Only this time, she couldn't claim she wasn't involved.

"There's no one else here. No wires, no… cameras, nothing. Just us, this time."

She nodded.

His hands were in his pockets and his tie was loose. He looked pale, as though he hadn't slept much. There was a long pause.

"I…" he closed his eyes, "I thought about what I wanted to say, but now the words aren't coming to me."

Temari crossed her legs and leaned back. "Did you know who I was?"

His eyes shot open, "of course not," he answered quickly; then coughed. He glanced out the window. "I found out… later though. When we met, the investigation hadn't even begun. Later on I saw some pictures and pieced it together. I figured it didn't matter though." He snorted half-heartedly, "after all, I never thought I'd see you again."

She'd thought the same thing. It was one night. A year and a half ago. As it was, she hadn't remembered much about it. Not because she was drinking. Only because it had been _so _inconsequential, and so over time, she'd mostly forgotten.

She didn't have one night stands often. Actually, he was the only person she'd ever slept with and then left. Not for any specific reason. Of what she did remember, he was nice and good looking and actually quite wonderful in bed, but she had just begun dating someone else, she was only on vacation in Konoha, and jesus, what did it matter anyway? They'd had sex. That was all. It was supposed to be done with.

And it had been. Until last week.

She hadn't even known anything apart from his first name.

"I couldn't've helped much anyway," she offered, "if you had known."

"I swear to you," he said, looking back at her with dark eyes, "nothing we did, _nothing_, had any impact on my work."

She nodded.

Perhaps, if she'd ever watched the news—rather than direly avoiding it—during the investigation and subsequent trial of her father, she would have seen Nara. She would've seen him in press conferences or outside a court-house or whatever detectives did.

After all, he did lead the investigation which led to her father's imprisonment.

And about seventh months before her father's arrest, he'd met Temari in a bar, in a hotel exactly like this one, and at the end of the night, she'd taken him to her room.

"What do you think happened?" She asked.

"Honestly," he said, moving to sit down in the chair beside him. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, "I have no idea."

She gave a long exhale. "Do you think someone followed us?"

"Someone might have followed you. I have people looking into it."

"Followed me?" She almost laughed, "I'm a research assistant at the university— I don't _have _fans… or enemies."

"It was your room. We weren't," he glanced at her, "…_I _wasn't intoxicated enough to not notice if some stranger crept in behind us with a camera."

"So you assume someone had preemptively planned to film us?" She said, louder than she'd meant to.

"I went back to the room," he replied patiently, "the film was taken from somewhere behind the television stand. Someone hid a camera behind there while you were out, or perhaps had hidden in there beforehand."

"And who would do that? It's not like it was known that _you _would be there or that we— what are the chances I'd even bring up anyone? For all the—perp, or culprit, or whatever you say— knew I could come back and just go to sleep."

"It could always just be some peeping-tom. Somebody found you attractive and installed a camera in the room?"

"And somehow found out who we were and made it public three months after the trial? That's ridiculous." Her tone rose and he leveled to match her.

"You don't think I haven't though about that? _Fuck_, of course I have. I've considered everything. I could _lose my job _off this. Not to mention the whole case is being re-opened."

Temari sighed and ran a hand through her hair, baiting her time until they'd both calmed. "I know," she said slowly. "Detective Nara—"

"Shikamaru."

"—right, Shikamaru, I don't doubt your capabilities. I know you're… a good investigator. You surely have enough standing to get out of this. The timeline doesn't even match up. And I've never worked for the company or my father. There's nothing I could've given you."

"They don't need proof of your involvement, Temari. We can't prove it was only once. It's easy to say we were secretly dating."

"I have—" she stopped and blinked, "_had_, a boyfriend."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

There was a long wait before anyone said anything.

"Have you seen it?" He asked eventually.

She frowned and shifted, uncrossing and then recrossing her legs. "Isn't there a way, though," she said, addressing the previous topic, "to say I was with him and not you."

"Not sufficiently. The Source doesn't help much either."

"Source?"

He glanced at her. "You really didn't pay attention to the news did you? I knew you weren't at the trial, but I didn't think you wouldn't watch it."

"Why would I? My father has nothing to do with me. I didn't invest in his company, I gave away all my inheritance, I pay my own bills. We're not a christmas-card family, Shikamaru."

He sighed, "I figured. I was glad, actually."

"Hm?"

"I was glad," he continued, "that you weren't at the trial. I didn't want to see you again… or rather, not there."

"Glad to know I was that bad."

"Ah, you know what I mean… But our evidence, we had an inside source. I can't tell you who it is. Actually, I don't even know, but I have a solid theory. The point is, the evidence, a good portion of it, initially came from someone working for your father. He confronted the chief about lost funds and had enough questions to start and investigation. All the evidence we got from him, or her, we were later able to find ourselves through legal means… but in court, a lot of it was questionable."

"I told you," she said, "I wouldn't've helped much. There can't be enough evidence pointing towards me as the Source. I haven't seen my father since I graduated college."

He leaned forward and placed a hand on her knee. "Please, tell me you didn't know."

"Excuse me?"

"Temari," he said lowly, "tell me you didn't know anything about your father embezzling his company's money. If you knew nothing, if you had no idea, it won't be hard to let this blow over."

"I…" she took a deep breath, "I didn't know exactly, I mean, I never saw any—"

"_Temari_."

"I knew there was something." He moved away and stood up, covering his face with his hands. "Growing up, I always had a feeling, but I didn't know any details. I never never knew exactly, I just… had a feeling."

"Dammit."

"I didn't _know _though! I didn't tell you anything. I didn't talk to my father about his work, I didn't go to that hotel specifically because I knew a detective would be there, and I didn't have sex with you for any other reason than you were _exciting_."

Shikamaru placed his hands on the sill and looked back out the window.

"Anyway," she continued, standing up and moving behind him, "even I know the video is enough proof for an investigation, but it's not like they can come up with anything else."

He said nothing, so she went on.

"This is the first time we've met in person. And the video itself won't stand alone. It starts when we come into frame and ends as soon as the sex does. It didn't even capture the second or third time. There's no talking and thus no evidence that we had any verbal communication whatsoever. That can't hold up in court, right?"

He was silent for a long time.

She was right. The video had only started when they walked into the frame. They were taking off clothes then, kissing and fumbling and landing on the bed. The camera itself was at an awkward angle, but it was enough for most of the actual act to be captured. Faces were rarely seen, but it was obviously the two of them. After he finished, they fell back against the bed and the shot ended.

Outside, the sky had began to grow black.

"So…" he said slowly, turning around to face her. They were close now, "you _have_ seen it?"

Temari waited a beat and then found herself laughing. "Actually," she said, "I've seen it a few times. It's pretty good, actually."

Shikamaru laughed at that too. His face completely transformed when he smiled. "You know, I had a friend that made a sex tape once. She said that it looked nothing like the movies. It was pretty ridiculous actually..." he rubbed his neck. "I was really kind of nervous. Not only for the legal purposes, but segments are on every news station around the country and most of the world. Everyone I know has now seen me in bed... but it turned out to be good." He chuckled and met her eyes, "really good."

"Great, even."

They were both smiling now.

"I don't remember much about that night," Temari said after a while, "but I am sure that what we did had nothing to do with my father or with your work, and because there is little doubt, shouldn't it be easier to prove?"

"No, the coincidence that we met and had sex relatively randomly is—" there was a ringing and Shikamaru reached into his pocket to pull out his phone. "Nara." He listened for a moment and then audibly agreed with the person on the other line before snapping his mobile shut and slipping it back into his pocket. "Sorry," he said, looking back at Temari, "I have to go."

She nodded, "not a problem."

He moved past her and into the middle of the room, reaching and donning his coat.

"We should meet again," he commented, "to better sort this out. There's an ongoing investigation, but you'll probably be of some help."

"If we can," she agreed, "sort this out, I mean."

He stopped and gave her a long look. "Are you busy Friday?" He said after a moment.

"I'll wait for your call."

"Right," he responded, buttoning his coat and walking to the door. "Goodbye, then."

* * *

ah yeah there you go

we'd all want to see that sex tape

reviews are candy and caramel apples


	11. That Girl

a/n: so this is an odd one. it's heavily based-off/influenced by the topher/saunders scene in _Dollhouse_ (not joss whedon's best, but this couple was perfectly otp during season 2).

anyway- **background** for this is basically (though i tried to make it somewhat clear in the story). there are "actives" which are basically people that have their mind erased and act like dolls (working to be their best) and are occasionally "imprinted" as a person and sent on missions or whatever (often sexual things a "client" hired). Temari was the doctor for all the actives in the dollhouse and Shikamaru is the tech guy who basically does the imprinting and invented a lot of it. recently, she just discovered she is actually a doll.

* * *

**That Girl**

* * *

A hand wrapped around his waist, slowly. Fingers soothed over his t-shirt and the light weight of a palm skimmed his side where the line of his body curved and dipped above his hip. The hand continued to move around his lower stomach from where he laid on his side, a warm body pressing precariously against his back.

Nails scratched lightly on his lower abdomen and then further down against his pelvis before the hand slipped to palm him against the briefs he'd worn to bed.

Shikamaru rolled his head back, moan caught low in his throat.

He was being tugged and gripped, body reacting in all sorts of ways. On instinct, he rolled onto his back, pushing the hand closer. He didn't mean to. It was just what men did. He wasn't even really awake. He was groggy and any blood that may contribute to processed thought was quickly making its way south.

The hand moved to slip into his underwear and her lips—not _her_! he'd not _known_ it was her—found their was to the base of his throat.

Her—_the—_palm was soft, very soft; delicate even, as it coaxed him into a stronger erection.

His moan was audible this time and he blinked his eyes open, still hazy but wanting to see her face.

Except he hadn't. Of course not, he didn't _want _to see her. Not really. Or rather, he _wanted _to but wasn't _supposed _to. He wanted to _imagine _she was touching him, but not really have her touching him.

He'd thought it was a dream—like one he'd had so many times before—, but there was no doubting the fact that Temari was tight against up, hands working his cock in completely inappropriate ways.

Shikamaru gasped and sat up, heart racing. "—the fuck?" He asked, pushing Temari away. He leapt off the bed shaking his head and stepping back until he hit the wall. "What the hell?" He snapped, hands in front of him. "Are you drunk?"

Temari stood up, wearing only a black nightie, legs long and bare and inviting and _fuck. _He gulped as she strided towards him.

"No," she said with feigned innocence, "I'm trying to be my best."

The words made him sick. She had to be doing this purposefully. Saying something only those a doll would say, as though to make a point. But for the life of him, he couldn't understand what it was.

She came to stand in front of him, his hands pressing against the front of her shoulders to ward her off. "I don't want your best."

She glanced down between them and then her eyes met his and she smirked. "Oh, well I think you do."

Shikamaru was so captivated and utterly confounded in each moment that it took him a second to realize what she'd said and to react. "Uh," he said dumbly, hands moving to cover the bulge beneath his underwear.

Unfortunately, much to his humiliation, it wasn't going down.

Shikamaru ducked away from where she had him pinned against the wall. "No, that- it… I was dreaming…" he was shaking, and he could feel his heart rate increasing every moment this continued. "—Not about you!" He tried, glancing around frantically for his pants.

What was she doing? This wasn't Temari. She hated him. She'd told him herself a few days before. She'd broken into his office and hacked his computer. It wasn't hard for her. Of course it wasn't. He'd _made _her to be just like that, but it never occurred to him that she might search through his work.

He couldn't understand how she must feel. She had a whole past, a whole memory of friends and family and lovers and _life _only to look through his files and find out that she _wasn't _real. He'd created her. He'd _made _her.

_I don't understand, _she'd said, her white lab coat hanging off her shoulders, _if you created me, why did you make me hate you?_

She hated him. They both knew it.

But now she was here, wearing practically nothing, and he was straining against his shorts face red and hot and mind everywhere.

It was idiotic he knew, stupid even, to react this way.

He knew all about sex. Maybe not in experience—though he was well into his twenties and surely knew some—but through research and fact. He knew the nerves that were affected and the reaction the brain had. He knew the chemicals created and released and the exact systems of the body.

He knew the construct of it was ridiculous. But he also knew that pain was only a feeling and so was sex and yet he _reacted _to both of them.

_But he shouldn't be reacting now._

"Please, Temari," he said when she came towards him again.

"Stop playing games." She chided.

He hopped over his bed to avoid her, "how does this not qualify as playing games?"

She stepped around the bed to follow him. "Oh," she said sweetly, "but this is the endgame. This is where it all leads." She placed her hand on his shoulder and pushed him down to sit. "You create someone to hate you so you can make them love you."

Shikamaru gulped and tried to push her away again. She was stronger though. Much stronger than him. Of course she was, lean and beautiful and deadly. He was just the tech guy and he could barely put up a fight when she gripped his wrists and pushed him down again, swinging a leg over his lap to straddle him.

"Hey," he tried to justify, "I could whip up a love slave any day I wanted. This house is full of them."

It was true. And he'd thought about it many times before. But thinking and going through with it were two completely different things.

And he'd never been in love with any of them.

And before she'd been Temari, he'd never been in love with her either.

But _making _her, _creating _her to fall in love with him… that was never the plan.

"But that wouldn't be a challenge would it?" She asked in a whispery voice that, much to his chagrin, made his cock all the hotter.

She pushed him down, rubbing herself over him, grinding down onto him, nails scratching through his hair as she lay above him. "A slave is just a slave. Easy. But winning over your enemy…" she reached for his hand and placed it on her outer thigh where her lingerie had ridden up and he didn't move it. "The one person who is guaranteed to dislike everything you stand for… to win them over," she paused to nip at his lip, "now that's real love."

Her eyes were dark and he could do nothing but stare, amazed.

"More real than anything in the world out there." She gave him a light kiss. "And I get it now," she said, grinding herself against him slower and harder than before. "I love you."

Shikamaru gulped. Of course she didn't. She didn't. He loved her. But it was only one sided, he knew that. Had known that for the last year. "What?"

Her hands were running up and down his sides and she pressed her lips to his for longer this time. "I love you," she said again.

And so help him, he grabbed the back of her head and pushed her in, parting his lips to meet hers.

He'd wanted to kiss her for so long now. Wanted to feel her tongue against his, pressed against the roof of his mouth, taste the inside of her lip. He wanted to feel every line and curve of her body, every intake of breath and change in heart rate. He'd wanted this. He'd _wanted _her.

_He loved her_.

And Shikamaru was a genius. Smarter than anyone else he knew. He could analyze anything and anyone and make sense of it and in all his knowledge the one thing he held on to be solid fact was that he'd never wanted anything, never _loved _anything, more than he did her.

But this wasn't right. She wasn't right. It wasn't fair to her; and so with one last ditch effort, he gripped she shoulders and pushed her off him.

Temari flew off his lap and back against the bed. She slapped him before he could say anything.

"Isn't this what you want?" She snapped, pale hair mussed and falling in her face. "Why shouldn't I love you?" She got off the bed, yelling now. "Aren't you lovable? Aren't you big brother? Aren't you the lord my god? Why shouldn't I interfere with your divine plan?!"

"Because you're better than that!" He paused, "because you're better than me."

That made her stop.

"Because this isn't my plan," he continued lowly.

And oh how he wish it were. How he'd thought about imprinting her to love him. How he'd thought about lying together… in _this_ bed and making love to her all night.

But he couldn't do that, because then she wouldn't be Temari.

And it was Temari he was in love with. The woman she'd become when she could no longer be an active doll. The doctor that argued him on almost every point and cared for all the actives in a way he wasn't able to.

"It's not a plan," he said again, this time slowly and vaguely desperate. Shikamaru planted his feet over the edge of the bed and hung his head in his hands.

He hadn't corrected her the other day. He didn't know how to then, and he still didn't know now. But he had to tell her.

"I didn't make you hate me," he said slowly. "I didn't _want _you to hate me." Shaking his head, Shikamaru stood up and began to pace.

"The doctor was dead," he said, "and as a doll, you were out of service," he licked his lips and her hands instinctively went to the scars on her face. "So they gave me the call: 'we need a new doctor! One whose committed to our cause, whose kind and efficient and who will look after our actives'."

Temari narrowed her eyes. "So why didn't you stop there?"

Shikamaru turned to her as if the answer were obvious. "Because I was designing a _person_, not a doll!" He shouted, angry and desperate. He knotted fists into his hair, still shaking, "I _needed _you to be whole! If you agreed with everything I said, then we would miss something and someone would get hurt."

"You don't care if people get hurt."

He stepped toward her. "You don't know me!"

Both of them were quiet after that. Eventually, Shikamaru sighed and sat back down on the edge of his bed again. "That's the contract," he said quietly. "You don't know me, I don't know you, not now, not ever."

Temari pressed herself again the back wall, saying nothing.

And it was true. He created her but he didn't know her.

And she didn't know him.

And she could never love him because he wasn't allowed to love her.

"I created you to question things," he continued in a broken whisper. "I made you fight for your beliefs." Slowly, he glanced at her, hair falling in his eyes and voice ragged. "I didn't… make you hate me." He looked at her and she stared back, body shaking. "You chose to," he said finally.

Temari's bottom lip trembled and she slid down the wall to the floor, bringing her knees to her chest and looking anywhere but at him. "How am I supposed to live?" She asked, voice hoarse. "How can I go through my live knowing that everything I think, everything I know is a lie?"

What could he say? How could he know?

She wasn't real. She didn't exist.

His memories of watching her from his office, of seeing her at work, healing people and empathizing with them—all of them, all of his love and lust for her… they weren't real. Because she wasn't.

But at the same time they were.

She existed. He'd made sure of it.

She had a mind, a memorized past. She had a personality. She had a life. One he had made, but a life nonetheless.

Quietly, Shikamaru stood up and walked over to her, kneeling beside her. "Why didn't you find out about yourself?" He asked softly. "When you broke into my office, why didn't you open the files about your real self? If you asked, we could probably give you your old life back. You, if anyone, have earned it."

Temari glanced away from him. "Because," she whispered, "I don't want to die. I'm just using someone else's body, but I'm scared to die."

She paused, and then turned her head toward him again. "I'm not any better than you, Shikamaru."

He tempted the idea of moving his hand to clutch hers, but thought better of it. She _was_ better than him. Because while she was selfish-and understandably so-about her life, he wouldn't have given her up anyway. He was in love with Temari, not whomever the body belonged to.

And she was so much better than him, because he would try to make sure that she stayed here, in the dollhouse, forever. As long as she was beside him.

* * *

okay, well, what do you think?

very au, i know. even for this collection.

_note_: apparently this collection has two more chapters (at least) because i have been inspired recently. but give me more requests so i can officially begin the next collection soon!

**MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! GET LOTS OF GIFTS! AND HAPPY **(belated)** CHANUKKAH** (if you're jewish like me)** AND KWANZAA** (idek what religion that is)** TOO!**

**I HOPE YOU ALL GET LOTS OF GIFTS!**

****for christmas/late chanukkah.. you can give me reviews? yes?


	12. Golden

__a/n: finally one that isn't au. note: shikamaru is the ambassador and lives in suna full-time. okey dokey. any more requests?

also based on something i read recently.

* * *

**Golden**

* * *

Temari ran her hands through her hair, tapping her toes against the ground, elbows on her knees. The breeze was soft and dry, cooling in the late summer weather.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, glancing down at the ring beside her.

She shrugged, not turning around.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

Temari moved her head to look at him. "Not at all."

He understood what she was saying, and though he thought she was being a little inconsiderate—even if she didn't _like _the kid—it wasn't his place to say anything, so Kankuro sighed, quite audibly in a passive-aggressive manner, and shut the window, letting her remain on the steps.

Temari shook her head at no one in particular. She _didn't _have somewhere else to be. Shikamaru was leaving, but he would be back, someday. Three years, at the most. And it wasn't like she couldn't go to wherever the new embassy was going to be when she had some time.

It wasn't goodbye.

She didn't have to stop him or tell him she'd wait for him or anything like that. He was an adult—almost—and it wasn't like she'd ever said Yes in the first place.

* * *

It wasn't small and it wasn't insignificant. His confession was like a white squall: brusque and confrontational.

"Temari," he'd said slowly, looking at her acutely.

"Hm?"

"I like you."

She'd been taken aback. They were sitting on a balcony of Gaara's office during his break, not talking much but enjoying each other's company. They'd been friends for years. They didn't seen one another often, but when they did they got along well enough.

But he was only a kid. And she wasn't interested in people like him.

"I like you," he said again. "I'll take care of you for the rest of your life, so choose me."

It was as though she were hit with a bag of bricks.

"Shikamaru," she'd said sharply, on the defensive. "I don't need to be taken care of."

"That's not what I meant."

"I'm capable of handling myself."

"I know," he said quickly. "I just mean, I want to be with you. And I care _for _you. I love you."

She could feel the blood painting a canvas across her neck. Without knowing what to say, she shook her head and turned back over the railing of the balcony to look down at the street.

"You don't embarrass easily, do you?" Was all she said.

* * *

Temari was coy. She didn't always say what she meant, and when she did it was only as a tactic. She thought before she spoke. Perhaps Shikamaru did too. But he said exactly what he meant to say and she said exactly what she needed to say.

She didn't manipulate as a game. She didn't _play _with people. She wasn't cruel or disingenuous. But she had learned early on that it was more fruitful to not always tell the truth.

And Shikamaru's tactic wasn't working, was it? She didn't go running to him. She didn't throw him on the ground and stick her tongue down his throat.

She didn't tell him she loved him or anything silly like that.

The first time he kissed her—hardly even a kiss, by her standard, just the pressing together of lips for a long moment, almost wayward in its execution, actually—he'd taken her hand to his heart and asked if she could feel it pounding.

Temari was coy in her words, but perhaps there was something to learn from him.

* * *

"You're not very tactical about this," she said recently when they were eating lunch on the roof of the embassy. It was a space she often found him at when not working.

"About what?"

"Me."

Shikamaru was on his back and he had to rise to his elbows to look at her. "What do you mean?"

Temari had thought about her words beforehand. "You're very smart. And you're very good about getting what you want, so why didn't you try harder with me?"

Shikamaru thought about this, then said simply: "I did try hard."

"Then you must not be very good at it."

"I guess not."

There was a longer pause.

"I've had little practice though. You're the first person I've ever fallen in love with. I don't really know how it works."

Temari narrowed her eyes. "I've seen you convince dozens of jonin to go along with your mission strategies before. It's not that different with people. You _seduce_ them."

He sat up fully and turned to face her, placing his hands on his thighs. "Do you want me to seduce you?"

She felt the blood rush to her face—and other parts of her body—again.

"All I meant," she amended, lying back down and looking at the sky, "was that you're not oblivious to this, or to sex. So why didn't you try to be tactical about it?"

"Because," he said seriously, "it's not complex. You're not an item to be won and sex isn't a game I wanted to play. I love you. It's simple. I wanted to tell you, so I did."

Temari shut her eyes and rubbed a hand over her face. "Idiot."

* * *

"I thought you loved me," he said yesterday afternoon outside her apartment.

"What?"

"I'd heard that if you want to be with someone more than anything, they'll almost always feel the same way."

"That's a gross generalization."

"Is it?"

"Shikamaru…"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. "You told me to convince you, so I'll try."

Temari took a step back. "Are you proposing to me?"

"No."

"Then what is this?"

"I want you to wait for me."

"Shikamaru—"

"I'll be gone for a long time but if you wait, I promise I'll come back to you."

"You can't just throw around words like this."

"I don't understand why you won't take me seriously," he said with quiet intent. "I'm _in love with you_, Temari, and I want to spend the rest of my life by your side."

"Because you never _do _anything about, Shikamaru! You spout all these bigs words with big intentions and no follow through. You confessed almost a year ago and now you take some initiative? How is a ring supposed to convince me to love you? I can barely tell if you want me or not."

Shikamaru looked vaguely surprised, but he covered the expression quickly. He gave her a moment to calm down at then brought his gaze to hers in earnest.

"I'm waiting for you to come to me on your own conviction." He said sharply. "But don't misunderstand me, Temari. I burn for you."

* * *

Temari licked her lips and ran her hands through her hair one more time. The wind was picking up now, and if she didn't put it back soon, it was going to get knotted.

He'd promised. He'd said, if she gave the word, he'd come back to her.

Temari wanted to laugh. All this time, she'd never realized how much she'd fallen in love with him. She'd never realized that maybe his tactic had worked. Maybe she didn't need to be seduced because she already love him.

Or maybe this whole time, he'd already been seducing her.

Picking up the ring from where it laid beside her, she slipped it onto her finger. It was a little big.

"Temari," Kankuro said from the porch window, "come inside."

"Sorry," she said, standing up, "I have somewhere to be."

* * *

yay! quick update.

i'm serious in that i have two more (LONG) ones (okay one mid length but the other coming-up-tails-long)

also, seriously considering expanding the previous chapter

also, in case no one realized, I officially just began using alexz johnson titles

**REVIEWS ARE THE EQUIVALENT OF TWINKIES DURING THE ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE**

not a zombieland reference _at alllll  
_seriously though you should give me feedback


	13. Hunger Pains

a/n: okay, so whatever I said last time was a lie. This is my last chapter for this collection.

I've never really ended something before. TAGAMT wasn't officially finished when I stopped it (though is completed now) and all my oneshots were different. I mean, I feel like really accomplished while I write this. Whoa.

So, for the final chapter- this began as a thought during thanksgiving and was inspired by reading multiple other stories. I have been working on it on and off since then. It takes place over the span of six years, sort of, and even the year changes not when it's been a year since they saw one another but a year on the calendar.

The characterization is how I imagine a sort of broken Shikamaru and how in meeting Temari, he is pieced back together. _._

Yeah, sorry for all this. I have a lot of things to say about this chapter. Get on with it, then. And review. Closing words for the collection and all.

* * *

**Hunger Pains**

**or**

**"Pleased to Meet You"**

* * *

**Year One**

They met in a train station. She bumped into him by the gates. She was exiting he was entering. He knocked her, hard. She spilled her coffee over her magazine.

"Shit," she muttered, bending down to try and decrease the damage as much as possible. It was an old issue— the periodical had been disbanded years before. She was only borrowing that particular copy from another intern, and only because she'd been asked to assist in a similar design to the one in the magazine spread.

She'd cut her hair last week, impassively, up to her jaw, one length. Pieces kept falling in her eyes as her head hung down and the strands weren't long enough to put behind her ears.

It'd been a long day— hell, a long month and she was annoyed.

"I have that." The boy said.

Temari glanced up. Staring down at her was a teenager with the blackest hair she'd ever seen. His face was pale, making one drawn to his eyes, which were dark and surrounded by thick, heavy lashes. She wasn't sure why she stopped, but there was something about his expression that surprised her.

She shook it off. "You what?"

"I have that issue," he clarified. His voice had a sort of whisper to it. Temari glanced back down at the magazine and back up at him. "That one's ruined," he gestured to her copy, "I'll give you mine."

"They discontinued this magazine."

"My father used to collect them."

Temari paused and then blinked. "Your father won't mind?"

"They're mine now."

"You don't need yours?"

"You can return it."

"Ah," she nodded and slowly began to stand. "Yeah, then I'll borrow it. Thanks."

The boy gestured to the gate, "I live ten minutes from here."

"Here? I thought there were only gardens around this place." Temari knew, her internship was only around the corner. This area was only businesses and government owned-land.

The boy turned and shrugged. "It's an old house. Follow me."

He continued to the stairwell. She took a few quick steps to be behind him. "Wait, I'm Temari."

"Shikamaru," he answered without turning around.

She had finished high school only a few months before. The boy was obviously younger than her (he was also in a uniform, if she had any doubt), and she was only eighteen, but he carried himself with much more weight than it looked like he was worth. He had the passivity and calm demeanor of a man in his middle age.

They walked in silence and she found herself wondering how such a young boy came to be like him. She didn't _know _Shikamaru—they'd only just met—but there was obviously something… heavy, and she wondered what it could be.

He walked slowly, but didn't lug. She kept a few paces behind him. He had gone off the road a few minutes ago, and like she'd thought, this area was only gardens. Right now they were walking through a quasi-forrest, the branches high above her head, and even though it was nighttime, had it been day, she mused that the foliage was so thick that she'd be able to see about as well as she could right now.

The third time she stumbled over a root, he stopped and extended his arm. "Come on," he said in the same strange tone. Wordlessly, she grabbed his forearm a few inches below his elbow and they continued on.

Like he'd said earlier, ten minutes from the station they arrived in a large clearing in the woods. In the center of the land was an old-style house, the likes of which she had never seen outside of television. It was beautiful, large panels of dark wood gleamed in the glint from the porch lights. The house itself was big. Not uncomfortably so, but certainly large enough to house a good dozen or so people.

"This is the back entrance," Shikamaru clarified after she had let go of his arm and begun walking forward. "It's quicker, but you have to go through the woods. The front gate is on the other side of the house."

"It's a beautiful house," Temari offered. He didn't say anything.

The inside was as nice as the outside, though a little more plain that she was expecting. Not dirty, just relatively simplistic. "Is anyone here?"

"Maybe."

"Is it okay to bring a stranger home?"

Shikamaru shrugged.

For some reason, Temari didn't feel anxious.

"I'll go get the magazine." He said after a moment and disappeared through a side door. Temari stood alone in the living room. It was hot.

"Shikamaru?" A voice called, feminine and light. Perhaps a sister? "Who are you?"

In the doorway a girl about Shikamaru's age appeared with another boy, both were in a high school uniform. "Ah, hello." Temari said. "I'm Temari."

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, uh, Shikamaru is lending me a magazine."

"Cool," the girl said. "I'm Ino. And this is Choji." She gestured to the boy behind her. "We're friends of Shikamaru's too."

"Oh you're not siblings?"

Ino laughed and stepped further into the room. "Siblings?! We look nothing alike. We just live upstairs." Temari must have looked confused, because Ino continued. "Shikamaru inherited the house when his parents died, and our families are really close, so our parents only let us live alone on the condition that we all live together."

That changed things. "You all live alone? Aren't you awfully young?"

"Fifteen. And yeah. But we're responsible, aren't we, Choji?"

Choji nodded, but stayed silent.

"I love your hair," Ino continued, coming closer. "I'm thinking of cutting mine like that. July is too hot for long hair."

"It is nice in the summer," Temari commented.

Shikamaru came back into the room. He came to stand beside her and held out the magazine. It was exact issue she'd been carrying earlier. She smiled and took it from him.

"Are you interested in architecture?"

"Not particularly."

It was an architecture magazine, but she didn't push it. Perhaps his father had been. She wondered when his parents had died.

"So…" she ventured. He was difficult to talk to. "I'll return this to you, then?"

"Whenever you're finished."

"Right," Temari said slowly. She stepped away and took a deep bow. "Thank you so much. I'll see myself out."

"Nice to meet you, Temari!" Ino called out after her, but Shikamaru and Choji stayed silent. "Have a good night!"

The night was growing cool as she left Shikamaru's house.

* * *

**Year Two**

She was hot.

Burning.

Her head felt light and her knees weak. Not trusting herself to stand, Temari moved to sit on the bench in the middle of the platform and dropped her head into her hands.

It wasn't that she worked particularly hard and hadn't had the time to get any sort of medication, it was just that she hadn't thought she'd need to. She hadn't gotten sick in years. Not since she was a kid, in any sense. And if she was going to finish her degree in three years instead of four, she had to be more preoccupied with work than perfect health.

But she should be more prepared for this. As it was, she had nobody to call. She wasn't particularly close with any classmates. She didn't really want to bother anyone at work. She didn't currently have a boyfriend.

She didn't need to be taken care of though. She was a big girl. She could make it home on her own. Once she got on the train it was only a few stops and one transfer to her apartment.

It was probably easier to get a cab though, and Temari acknowledged this as her train pulled in. Slowly she stood up and turned away from the people exiting to metro to walk slowly and unevenly to the gates. She'd gotten off work about half an hour ago, so the cabs would still be running around the area looking for businessmen to pick up.

"Hey, are you okay?" Someone asked.

Temari waved them off, "fine," she muttered. Her bones felt weak though, and when she stumbled, a strong arm reached out to catch her. "Thanks."

"You look sick."

"I'm on my way home."

"Where do you live?"

"On the west side of the city," Temari managed.

"Our house is closer!" A new voice said, "come stay with us, we'll take care of you!"

"Ino," the man with the arm warned. "She wants to go home."

A hand hit Temari's forehead and felt around for a moment. "She has a fever. I can take care of her."

"_Ino…_"

"She's Shikamaru's friend... Temari, right? He wouldn't want us to just abandon her in the station."

Temari struggled to wave them off. She remembered them now, but the images were hazy. She remembered Shikamaru though.

"It's ten minutes, Choji, and you can carry her on your back, can't you?" Temari could feel herself fading quicker now. Even using Choji's elbow for support, she registered the black starting to surround her vision.

"One immunology elective and you think you're an expert."

"Of course I don't, I just—"

* * *

When Temari woke up, it was dark outside. She was by a window, one she didn't recognize. Her head was still heavy and her body felt weak. She groaned.

A moment later, a cool cloth touched her forehead and she blinked to see Shikamaru sitting above her. His hair was longer than she remembered and his face significantly warmer. He wiped down her sweat and then place the cloth beside him.

His hand reached out and brushed beneath her bangs to rest against her forehead. Wearily, Temari reached up and placed her palm atop his hand, holding it in place. "So cold," she whispered.

"Shh," he said, pulling his hand away. She closed her eyes and fell back to sleep.

* * *

"Are you feeling better?" Ino asked the next day. "You had a really high fever last night."

Temari took a sip of the orange juice in front of her. When she'd woken up this morning, someone had lain out an extra set of clothes for her to wear. They were most likely Ino's, although they certainly didn't appear to be in her style— though to be fair, apart from her jeans today, the only other time Temari had seen her, she'd been in a school uniform.

"Not particularly great," she said lamely, "but certainly better."

"Well, it's a start. Shikamaru said you woke up a dozen times during the night, so he was able to get a lot of medicine down you."

"Shikamaru?"

"I thought you wanted to take care of her," Choji commented, eating the pancakes Ino had made. "Practice your nursing…"

"I did! Shikamaru was up anyway, so he offered to take the night shift… doctors don't work 24/7, Choji."

Temari coughed and waved her hand in front of her. "He was with me the whole night?! You didn't need to take shifts, please don't put yourself out on my behalf! You already did enough."

"Don't worry about it," Choji said, "trust me, being a doctor _excites _her. If anyone is put out here, it's you. We basically kidnapped you from that station."

She laughed, "not at all. I'm definitely in your gratitude."

Choji had finished his pancakes and stood up from the counter. "You can owe Shikamaru a favor, then."

"Shikamaru? What about me?"

Choji handed passed Ino to get to the sink, "you're right," he amended, turning on the water and washing his plate, "you owe _Temari _a favor."

* * *

Temari stepped outside. The air was dry and crisp. There'd been little snow this year, but it looked like this house and surrounding area had gotten some. There was an old snowman to the right of the backyard.

From the bushes, Temari could see the path Shikamaru had led her through the first time she came here. She'd never actually seen the front gate, so she figured she'd probably leave through the woods again in a few hours. Ino insisted she stay to continue quasi-checking on her condition.

Temari took a few more steps down the stairs of the porch and tilted her head back. She hadn't seen the sky in what felt like a very long time.

"You're awake?"

Her head snapped down. Shikamaru stood by the bushes that marked the entrance to the back path. He was wearing a black coat and thick wool scarf. His hair was longer, as she remembered from last night, and his eyes no less intimidating.

She gave him a smile, "yeah."

He came closer and extended his right hand, which held a plastic bag. "Take it."

"Uh-"

"It's medicine. Ino told me to buy it."

"Oh." Temari reached forward and took the bag from his hand. Their fingers brushed. His were very cold. "And thank you."

He said nothing.

"For last night, I mean."

"Choji and Ino were the ones that brought you home."

Surprisingly, Temari felt a light blush spread across her cheeks. "Ah, I know. Thank you for everything else, though."

Shikamaru cocked his head and blinked. Then straightened. "Take better care of yourself." He said shortly, before moving past her and walking up the porch stairs.

* * *

The next time she was with him, it was for work.

It was completely coincidental. Just as it had been when they'd met and the time they saw one another after that.

Surprisingly, she'd seen him at the station three days before. It'd been unusual to see him. Logically, there was the possibility of seeing him everyday. Her work was only a few minutes walk from his home; they both traveled from the same train station. Yet, she came early and left late, often before and after regular school hours. Sometimes she saw students, but rarely, and not once had she seen Shikamaru.

But that morning she had. He was standing across the platform and to the left, watching an empty spot with no outward expression. He was obviously going to school, in his uniform and with his bag over his shoulder.

Then a man, a much older one, came up to him and patted his shoulder. The man said something and Shikamaru changed his expression.

It wasn't that Temari noticed she hadn't seen him smile. It wasn't something the necessarily thought about, but when she saw him smile for the first time, it suddenly struck her that she had never seen the expression on him before. What kind of person didn't smile?

Well, apparently he did. Just not for her.

For the older man, though. He was in his mid-forties, with blonde hair and high cheekbones. He obviously knew Shikamaru, though Temari had no clue as to who he was. She had little to go on, she'd allow. After all, she had only met Shikamaru twice. But she knew enough to realize that he wasn't the social type, seemed to enjoy no club activities, and had no parents to speak of. But the man didn't set her off. In fact, Shikamaru seemed more comfortable than she'd ever seen, and, if anything, she felt curious, and perhaps, quite surprisingly, jealous.

It was then, three days after seeing him in the station, that Temari met the older man.

She worked for an ad agency, and on this particular advertisement—for a shoe company—her company was merging with another. The man at the station was director of the other company her office was working with.

She recognized him immediately. It was funny, she supposed, that they'd meet like this. And before they even took a break so she could inquire his relation to Shikamaru, the man changed images on the projector screen to show a photograph of an old house and large garden.

The picture was old, the coloring obviously from a decade or so before. But one could still see the vivid color of the flowers and the free-growing grass. It was a beautiful image, and one she recognized, though it took a moment.

"That's where Shikamaru lives," she mumbled.

The man turned to her. She was only a part-timer, and was surprised he'd been paying enough attention to even hear.

"Ah, you know Shikamaru?" The man asked, quite taken aback.

Temari hesitated, then nodded.

The man thought this over. "I didn't know he had other friends," he said after a moment.

Temari wouldn't classify herself as a friend, but she nodded anyway.

"So you know the Nara residence?"

She nodded again. She'd never actually known Shikamaru's last name, but Nara seemed relatively fitting.

"And you think it would be right as the background for the ad?"

Temari glanced around the rest of her table, and after getting a nod from her boss, scooted forward in her seat. "I do," she hadn't thought about it before, but Shikamaru's place was ideal for this, actually a number of, ad(s). "It's hard to find old resident buildings like that anymore, especially ones as beautiful as this."

"I'm glad you think so," the man said, smiling, "the customer was the one who picked it out."

When they went on break, he approached her. "So you know Shikamaru?" The man asked casually, handing her a coffee. Temari thanked him and took it.

"Not really," she admitted, "he and his friends took care of me once when I was sick."

"Oh?" He raised his eye brows, looking quite surprised. "I've never known Shikamaru to have many friends," he admitted.

"Ah, he lives with—"

"Yes, but I meant apart from Ino and Choji." The man looked at her and smiled, "they're more like siblings. They _were _raised together. What I meant was, he doesn't have many friends, so I'm glad you two get along." Temari had never said anything like that, considering she didn't think they got along very well. But she said nothing, only nodded.

"Are you friends with him as well?" He was surely older, but Temari wouldn't put it past him.

The man laughed, "I'm Ino's father." Temari was slightly embarrassed that she hadn't seen the likeness before, as they looked quite similar, "but I _was _friends with Shikamaru's parents."

"Oh," she exclaimed, embarrassed she hadn't realized it beforehand. "Of course you're Ino's father."

"Takes after me, does she?" He laughed.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

He was standing in the garden with his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. It had rained the night before, and now, a little after nine am on the morning of the shoot, the grass was wet and the air crisp. His dark pants were tucked into rain boots and big scarf was wrapped around his neck and tucked into his jacket.

He looked thinner than before, more chap too, both probably relating to the harsh weather that preceded the niceties of spring.

Temari blinked, "working."

He looked surprised.

"This my job, you know." She said with a tinge of sarcasm. "Advertising. Thank you, by the way, for letting us use your property." Actually, she was only there because Mr. Yamanaka had asked for her to act as the liaison between the two offices. Her boss wasn't in any position to refuse, and thus Temari was standing in the back yard of the Nara estate.

He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. She didn't know how to follow, so a short, and surprisingly weighted, silence ensued.

"Ah, also," she said after a moment, "thank you for last time." Temari grinned, "for last month, I mean."

"You're an adult." He said seriously, "learn to take care of yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"Fainting in the station is irresponsible."

"What are you—," she shook her head, "I don't particularly like you."

Shikamaru didn't give any sort of reaction, just looked at her for an annoyingly long time and then turned around and walked to the back porch.

What was that about? He'd never been particularly nice, so she couldn't exactly be surprised.

More than that, though she was loath to admit, he was kind of right. She had overworked herself. And had Choji and Ino not been there, it could've turned out a lot worse.

But that didn't give him enough—any, really—sufficiency to ride her about it. Greatly annoyed, Temari made her way back over to where people were setting up for the photoshoot. The models each for heavy coats that would later be shed as the wore lighter outwear. Mr. Yamanaka was standing over everyone, holding a steaming paper cup of tea. When he saw her, he beckoned her over.

"How are you doing?"

She shrugged and burrowed further into her own scarf. "Cold."

"You're always welcome to wait inside, there's only so much you can do out here."

"I'm fine."

Their conversation halted for a moment as the shoot started. The models slipped off their down coats and started posing on the porch.

"I didn't know you and Shikamaru were so close," he said after a few minutes, completely taking her by surprise.

"What? No, we're not."

He smiled, "Shikamaru doesn't like many people. I'm glad he likes you."

Temari was quite sure the opposite was true. Even in the times he wasn't being straightforwardly cold, he was being unresponsive, at least in all of her experience with him. It was a sharp contrast to the treatment Choji and Ino gave her, and she would much sooner call them friends than she'd call him one.

This was the second time Mr. Yamanaka had mistaken her for being Shikamaru''s friend, but she still didn't correct him. He clearly cared for the kid— she was in no position to explain that they didn't get along.

"When I used to live here," Mr. Yamanaka continued, "there were always people bustling in and out. Today is kind of like a reminder of my youth."

"You used to live here?"

He nodded, "when we were young, Shikamaru's father decided to turn this place into a boarding house."

Temari glanced around, remembering the photograph he had shown in the meeting the week before. It really was a beautiful house, and it was easy to imagine as a boarding house .

"At any given time, ten to twenty people could be staying here. It was a much more lively place back then." He paused. "It was very hard for Shikamaru when he parents died, as you'd expect, I guess. It was about five years ago, so he wasn't very old at the time, but old enough…" Mr. Yamanaka exhaled, "He'd been looking out the window all day; when I came, he was upstairs watching the garden. He didn't move until you walked in through the back path. I watched him leave the window and run down to talk to you."

Temari said nothing, unsure how to respond.

"He is a very passive person. His father was lazy, and I think that is where he gets it from, but his father wasn't passive. Shikamaru doesn't speak much and he doesn't understand empathy."

"Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because," Mr. Yamanaka said slowly, "he came downstairs as soon as he saw you. I haven't seen Shikamaru do that since he was a child." He gave a small smile and rubbed his chin. "I'd appreciate it, as a favor to myself, if you would come by more. Please continue to be his friend."

* * *

Temari leaned back in her kitchen chair, running a hand through her hair. It was growing longer, and she had thought about it cutting it recently. Last August, she'd cut it all off, but now it was almost June, and she hadn't had a decent cut since.

She was in a pair of drawstring pants and sleeved shirt that was comfortably loose. She had had trouble sleeping lately. It wasn't anything conscious. She had no anxiety she was aware of— or nothing critical. She worked hard, and that came with a bucket of stress, but there was nothing out of the ordinary that she had to be worried about.

Temari brought her left knee to her chest and placed the pads of her fingers on the table before her, pulling back a photograph.

Three weeks ago, someone in the office had brought in the images from the photo shoot at the Nara residence from March. The ad was in print now, and the remaining frames were going to be filed away. Temari had shifted through them with a colleague half-heartedly until one popped out at her.

She remembered the moment when the picture had been taken. Everyone was on break, and she and Choji were sitting on the back porch when Shikamaru walked past them on his way to the store.

The photographer had stopped him and asked to take a picture.

"Why?" He had asked, in the blunt manner of his.

The photographer, a man in his later thirties frowned, "because," he'd said simply, "you're beautiful."

Of course he was. Temari knew it. Anyone with sense could tell; physically, at least. He had those simple, angled features, but it was the gaze, along with his coloring, that made his appearance so interesting. He had dark eyes surrounded by heavy, darker, eyelashes. His eyes were never dull, always bright and alive, which seemed to completely contrast his personality. His skin was light and his hair thick and black. It was growing longer, and it didn't appear to have been cut in a while. Now, the back reached his shoulders, and was probably long enough to have to be put into a ponytail when he washed his face.

Sighing, Temari pushed the thought aside. Since when had his habits or the details of his appearance concerned her? He might have been pretty, but it was no matter to her. She didn't like his personality.

Anyway, she thought, he is much more attractive when he smiles. In the photograph before her, he was just looking at the camera impassively, but she remembered the time in the train station at which he'd smiled at Mr. Yamanaka.

When he smiled, his whole face lit up. He'd never smiled like that for her.

But why did she care? She shouldn't. Sure, she sympathized with the loss of his parents, but after so long, Shikamaru had no standing to be so… rude.

Except he wasn't rude. Maybe in tone, but everything he said to her was neither kind nor cruel. It was straightforward. And she was pretty sure, if she argued him on it, he would let her go.

But either way, that didn't give her an excuse to _like _him. They had expertly clashing interests, she could tell. There was no basis to enjoy his company, much less to be so _interested. _

Then again, she mused, she liked Ino, very much, in fact. But she didn't steal photographs of Ino out of the file and study them on the kitchen table.

* * *

**Year Three**

She had gone out with Ino frequently over the year.

This time, Temari had run into her around the office, and Ino had asked her out. That had been in January, a few months short of a year since they last saw one another.

They'd gone for coffee. There was a place a half mile from the office and Shikamaru's house. They'd walked there, stayed, talked about school and college applications, walked back, and parted ways.

They met again not long afterwards. And then again. And again.

"We all got in," she said one weekend morning over breakfast in later March.

"Good," Temari commented, sipping her coffee, "that's where you wanted to go, isn't it?"

Ino nodded, "yeah. We're all going to attend too."

"You want to stay together?"

"Of course."

Temari licked her lips, "you know," she said unsurely, "people usually try to attend a university far from home and with all new people. You're going to miss the chance to 're-invent' yourself.'"

"But I don't want to reinvent myself," Ino defended, "anyway, I don't want to stay in dorms with young girls who have never been out of the house before. Could you imagine?"

Temari nodded, "I do go to college too, you know."

"Barely."

"The point is, can you really have many new experiences, or 'college experiences' rather, if you live in the same house as you did during high school? With the same people as well?"

She shrugged, "I have friends outside Choji and Shikamaru." It was true, Temari had seen Ino with a cluster of attractive young girls, and some boys, a few times before, and she knew a handful of them by name. "Plus, they're more like siblings. So really, I'm just attending school with my family, I guess. And honestly, I am more independent living on my own than I would be in a dorm with dozens of others."

"Siblings?" Temari asked, regretting the comment as soon as she'd said it, even if she was only half-serious, "aren't you supposed to choose one?"

"Not you too."

"Eh?"

"My father asked me that last year."

"Well," Temari said, tracing the pad of her pointer over the lip of her mug, "isn't it kind of a given?"

"That I end up falling in love with one of them?"

"Pretty much."

Ino pantomimed choking.

"I always thought you and Shikamaru would make an attractive couple."

"For one thing," Ino said quickly, "if anyone is getting together, it's Choji and I. Still not happening, but I'd sooner end up with him than Shikamaru."

Her conviction was surprising. "Hm?"

Ino was silent, moving fingers over her mug again. "I just couldn't handle him, is all." She pulled a lock of hair behind her ear and looked at the table with thoughtful eyes. "He's changed a lot though," she said slowly, thinking it over, "recently. He talks more and smiles sometimes. Choji and I tried everything, but we were never able to help him."

"I'm sure—"

"No," Ino continued, "we never did. We support him, I guess. But we don't _help _him. He needs someone who can help him." She grinned and glanced up, "that's why I'm glad you're friends!"

* * *

"What are you doing here?"

It was late July, a day very much like the one when they'd first met. He was in the second-floor hallway, leaning out the open window and calling to her. She'd barely made it into the yard before he yelled after her.

She raised her arm to emphasize the bag she was carrying. Looking up at him, she ran a hand through her hair. "Dinner."

He waited for a moment, and then moved away from the window. Temari, assuming he was going to come re-enact the same conversation from the last time they'd met the past year, stood rooted in her spot.

It was hot though, and underneath her skirt, she could feel sweat running between her thighs; she felt the need to fidget.

A few moments later, Shikamaru came onto the porch. "You brought dinner?"

"I brought dessert. I'm invited to dinner."

"Who—"

"Ino called me last week and invited me. She said Choji was cooking."

"Ino called you?" The question wasn't rhetoric in tone, more genuine with surprise. "She has your number?"

"We're friends."

Shikamaru opened his mouth to say something, then shut it again. She'd been expecting something harsher, but when he finally came out with: _come inside, it is hot out here_, she'd been surprised.

She glanced up at the window where he'd been one last time, remembering how she'd looked up there last time to see, as Mr. Yamanaka had said, Shikamaru watching her from behind the window. Was he always looking out the window? Or did he only watch her?

Her neck burned as she walked inside.

* * *

"Are you excited for school to begin?"

Shikamaru was sitting across from her, leaning back on his hands and his legs crossed beneath him.

"College is a big deal," she continued when he didn't respond. "The time of your life, supposedly."

"We're not moving out. It will probably be just like high school."

"You don't have to live on campus to enjoy it. There are more parties. Sex, alcohol, no uniforms."

"You dropped out of college."

Temari sighed. "That's different." Her job had become too demanding, and they'd offered her good pay for a full-time position.

Actually, she could make much more money if she took the promotion they were offering her. Three new branches were opening out of the country, and they were offering her to help run any one of them. The younger staff were all taking the jobs. As of now, she was the only one who held out.

There was no reason she shouldn't leave. She had nothing tying her down here. She had few friends and none worth staying a year. And yet, she hadn't given her company a conformation yet.

"The point is," she continued, "it's an exciting time for you. I know Ino and Choji are looking forward to it."

Shikamaru glanced to the side.

"I don't think much will change. I switched schools a lot when I was younger. They're all the same, aren't they?"

"You have very set convictions for someone so young."

"You're not much older than me." He said pointedly. She couldn't disagree. She wasn't that much older. He wasn't a kid anymore.

"Don't say stupid things like that," she said instead.

* * *

"What are you doing?" She asked when he followed her out that night. They were on the back trail that led to the train station.

He averted his eyes to the ground and kicked a pebble before looking back at her. "I can walk you to the station."

"Why would you do that?"

"You're a guest," he said patiently, "isn't it what I'm supposed to do?"

He'd never offered to walk her before. Choji or Ino often inquired, but Temari usually turned him/her down. She knew the way, and walking through the woods, especially in the setting sun of mid-summer, was a nice silence.

"You don't have to, I know how."

"I want to." His face didn't change with the confession —could it even be called that? emission, maybe— but hers certainly did.

Temari raised her brows and then shrugged. "Sure." Her body felt warm.

* * *

"Shikamaru takes nothing and leaves nothing. He lets everything pass him by, less like a leaf that flies where the wind takes it, but more of the rock in the stone that lets the wind pass it by."

"That's an awfully poetic thing to say."

"It's a quote I read," Ino admitted, "but I though it fit."

"Oh? So he's like the rock?"

They were in a cafe near Temari's apartment, drinking iced coffee. It was early August.

Ino nodded. "He is going to take over the company one day. He doesn't particularly want to, but there isn't anything else he wants to do." She twirled her straw around in her glass. "He doesn't say so, but I can tell."

"He must have some other interest?"

Ino thought about it. "Not really. He used to play the piano, when we were young, and he enjoyed reading more than the rest of us. But he doesn't do those things anymore."

"Hm. Anyway, you're eighteen soon, right?"

"Next month."

"Right. So, when you become an adult, you usually start branching out and choosing a definitive interest. He'll have more electives in college and will eventually have to choose a major."

"I don't think being a legal adult will have any affect on his interests." Ino muttered. "After all, Shikamaru's been more or less and adult for the last eight years."

* * *

"You've been hanging out here a lot," Shikamaru said one afternoon as he was walking in and she was walking out.

"I'm invited."

"You are." He agreed.

She shrugged.

"It is a boarding house, you know," he said, "if you're over so often, you might as well talk to Inoichi about moving in. He owns the house until I turn twenty-one."

The comment, said passively, took Temari completely off-guard. "I... uh—, and live with a bunch of freshman, no thank you." She waved her hand and brushed off the invitation.

The corners of Shikamaru's mouth turned up in something that resembled a small smile and he cast his eyes toward the ground. Her heart beat faster. Quickly, Temari excused herself and continued on.

* * *

When Temari arrived, the party had already begun. She saw some people she recognized, mainly a few friends she'd seen Ino with before and then Mr. Yamanaka and someone who looked shockingly like Choji, whom she assumed to be his father. There was also the girl with long dark hair Temari had seen walk home with Shikamaru twice in the last week.

She was still with him now, sitting at the table with him and Choji, talking to make up for the lack of participation from the other two. Shikamaru and Choji were best friends, but neither were particularly talkative—though neither were shy nor incapable—but they were completely comfortable in one another's presence. Temari knew what it was like to be between the two of them, trying to make up for a tension only she felt.

* * *

But she felt no sympathy for the girl, and so she moved away and went to go greet Mr Yamanaka.

"Her name is Reiko." Choji said later that night.

Temari nodded and glanced over to the corner where the girl and Shikamaru were talking.

"She is in his economics class."

"Good," she said, smiling softly. It _was_ good that someone was interested in Shikamaru. Of course, he was attractive. But that went only so far. His presence wasn't joyful and most people didn't want to take on the burden of loving someone like him.

Temari certainly didn't want it. Had she any sense, she would leave the house and stop catching glances with a broken boy fresh out of high school.

The girl seemed nice enough. And she was pursuing Shikamaru, which made her worth it. Temari wasn't pursuing him, in any view. But there as still something about Reiko that she found annoying. Wasn't it awfully presumptuous to think you were worth it, that you were worth him?

* * *

"Temari!"

She stopped and turned around, her eyes moving up the second-floor window.

"What are you doing? Go back downstairs."

He ignored her. "Are you leaving?"

She nodded. "I have things to do tomorrow."

Shikamaru thought this over. "Can you stay?"

She had stayed an appropriate time, certainly. She'd waited for cake and had the obligator conversations with everyone she knew. She'd avoided Shikamaru for most of the night, both because she'd rather not engage with him and because he'd been seemingly busy. By the time she'd looked for him to say goodbye and wish him a happy birthday, he was nowhere to be seen.

"Just for a minute," he continued. "I'll be right down."

Temari paused, bit her lip, then nodded and he disappeared from the window.

* * *

"You know," she said, lighting up her cigarette and taking a long inhale, "when we met, I was the age you are now."

"I must have seemed young."

Temari chuckled and leaned against the porch. "Yeah, I guess you did."

They remained in silence for a little while.

"Temari."

She glanced at him in question, tapping the cigarette between her fingers to rid of some ash. He rarely said her name.

"I'm thinking of dropping out."

"Of school?"

Shikamaru nodded.

"You've been in one week." She took a drag. "That's an awfully swift judgement, don't you think?"

"I never really liked school."

"No one likes high school."

"I didn't dislike it," he amended quickly, "…I just didn't care for it. And college isn't particularly different."

"It's only been a week," Temari repeated, "things change."

Shikamaru looked at the floorboards.

Things changed. He'd changed. He wasn't as quiet as he was last year or the year before that. He was shy, but he'd certainly warmed to her over time. School changed. Ino and Choji changed. Temari herself had changed. She had a job now. She paid her taxes. She owned an apartment.

"Is there a point?" He asked after a while.

"To?"

"School."

Temari frowned. "That's a stupid question."

"For me, I mean… ah, there's no real point for me to stay. I'm learning, I guess… but, I won't need it. When I turn twenty-five, I'll inherit the company. I'm just killing time before then, aren't I?"

Temari opened her mouth to speak, but then shut it again. She remembered what Ino had said to her, about how Shikamaru took nothing and left nothing, but let everything pass by without personal thought. She finished the cigarette and put it out with her boot before picking it and walking inside the house to throw it away, all the while gathering her words.

When she came out, Shikamaru was sitting on the edge of the porch, legs crossed beneath him.

"Dropping out is a mistake." She said plainly.

He looked surprised. She came and sat down beside him.

"You can do whatever you want, you know? …You don't have to be an architect. The company— you don't have to inherit it."

"Yes, I do."

Temari rested her hand on his forearm. Her words came out slowly. "You don't have to do everything you're told, Shikamaru. Waiting aimlessly until you're old enough to take over a business that you don't even care for is… idiotic." She stopped and took a long breath, waiting to see if he'd correct her on her interpretations. "You're an adult now— make you're own decisions."

"It's my obligation—"

"No it isn't! Stop being so fucking passive, Shikamaru."

The silence between them this time wasn't comfortable. It was hard and icy and she instantly regretted what she'd said. But she didn't take it back.

She was staring at the ground, but she could feel the moment when he turned his head to look at her. She'd only ever seen him wear a handful of expressions, and she could easily picture the one he was wearing now- irritated and hurt.

"Shikamaru…" she tried softly, turning her head to meet his gaze, but she wasn't able to finish the sentence.

Perhaps she had sat down too close to him to start with or perhaps he'd moved closer sometime between then and now, but either way, at the moment he was too near, wearing an expression she'd never seen before. Her heart beat quicker.

"You know," he said quietly, seemingly unperturbed, "sometimes when you look at me, your eyes grow darker? What does that mean?"

Like a bolt of lightening hitting her core, Temari jumped back and snapped her gaze back to the ground, biting the back of her hand as her face heated.

He had asked honestly, completely unaware of any meaning behind the question and the answer. But she knew it. She'd known it, for much too long. And she'd denied it, for longer.

He was only a child, and a lost one at that. She had no right and certainly no backing to be feeling this way.

"Temari?" He prompted when she didn't respond.

The decision came in an instant. She had no lingering feelings and no wayward intentions. She knew now why she'd neglected making the decision. But she also knew why she had to make it. The transfer would be good for her, because if she stayed here any longer, she would fall in love with Shikamaru Nara, and that wasn't okay.

* * *

**Year Four**

* * *

**Year Five**

"_You_?!"

The night was black. Not a single star peeked out of the skies. Lanterns were lit along one of the buildings on the residential street she was walking up, lugging one wheeled suitcase behind her and a duffle almost half her size of her shoulder. She'd shipped most of her belongings home already, but not enough to give her a light bag.

She had been slowly making her way home to her old apartment, bags and all, when a figure emerged from around the corner of the cross street. She'd ignored him, but when his face was close enough to make out, she recognized it immediately.

Shikamaru turned to her and gaped, obviously quite surprised by the sudden meeting.

"T— Temari? What are you doing here?"

She shrugged, playing it cool though just as taken aback. "My apartment is a few blocks down."

He rubbed his neck and glanced down at the ground for only an instance before meeting her eyes. She found nothing calculating about his gaze, which was surprising, considering there usually was something… _different _there, but today he looked, well, okay. "I mean _here_?"

She wove her eyes back over her bags, "just got in."

"Ah," he reacted, completely innocently and young and _so_ different. "Sorry." He reached for her duffle bag.

"It's fine, I got it."

"No, I'll help." Reluctantly—but not really, he'd been bigger than her for a few years now— she handed over the duffle. He held it by his side and began walking in the direction she gestured. "I've never been to your apartment before." He blinked and looked back at the ground. "I want to see where you live."

"I haven't lived there for a year, you know."

"I know."

She didn't know how to respond, so they kept walking in silence.

They hadn't kept in contact. He had turned nineteen over a month ago. She had last seen him on his eighteenth birthday.

Her decision to leave wasn't based on him. She'd had other reasons to spend a year out of the country, helping to open the new branch. He had only prompted her choice. He hadn't been the reason.

Or at least, not the sole one.

She had texted Ino a few times, maybe once a month or so, but that was all. Of course, Ino had always spoken about Shikamaru. For some reason Temari couldn't understand, while she was certainly closer to other members of his household, she continued to be regarded as 'Shikamaru's friend.'

He'd been good, Ino'd said. He was into his second year of college now—he'd decided to stay—and was narrowing in on a business major. He'd even dated that girl that'd been at the party. She'd ended it, according to Ino, but Shikamaru hadn't been broken up about it; but he wouldn't, would he? He wasn't like that. He didn't care about other peoples feelings.

They came to a stop at the foot of her building.

"I have nothing to offer you." Temari said slowly. "I rented it out, but they've been gone a few weeks, so all the food is probably gone too."

"I'm not hungry."

Temari sighed and rubbed her eyes. She'd planned on crashing hard when she came home, but while her body still felt weak from the move, her mind was very fully awake and aware of the person next to her.

"There is a convenience store on the main street," Temari said, "go buy us something to drink. I'm in 4B."

He was surprised.

"Is that okay? You're old enough now, right?"

Shikamaru set down the duffle bag. She saw sweat on his neck and realized that perhaps he wasn't as strong as she'd thought. He was still only a kid. It was easy to forget that. But he had walked the whole way without switching hands or position once.

"I… we've never gone out drinking before."

"Oh?"

He glanced down at the floor. "You always go with Ino."

"Do _you _go drinking with other people?"

"Huh? No. Not at all."

For some reason, Temari found herself grinning. "Just grab some beer," she said, grabbing her bags and pushing open the lobby door, "and come find me."

* * *

"You look so comfortable."

Shikamaru raised his brows. He was reasonably drunk by now, but was holding his alcohol well.

"With drinking," she answered. "I don't remember you being so casual beforehand."

"It's been a long year."

Temari laughed. It certainly had been. "So, how is everything? How's school?"

He shrugged.

"And Choji and Ino?"

"They're good. They've missed you."

"The feeling's mutual."

There was a pause and Shikamaru straightened his back.

"Why did you leave?" He asked eventually.

"For work, remember?"

"No." He said. "Why did you choose to leave us?"

"Shikamaru—"

"A year is a long time."

* * *

"You're right," Temari said the first time she saw Ino, "he has changed."

"He missed you."

"I doubt that."

"I don't know if you understand, Temari," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, "you changed him. We've all realized it. Did you know, after his parents died, he stopped playing chess?"

"He played chess before?"

"He _won _chess. And then when he heard you'd left, he decided to join the chess club. I hadn't seen him play in almost a decade. He is practically the head of it now— undefeated by all members and anyone else whom challenges him."

"It has nothing to do with me."

"Doesn't it? Don't you see? He wants to be good enough for you."

"What?" Temari scoffed. "What are you talking about?"

Ino shrugged, and exhaled, "I don't know. Choji is the one who said it: 'he wants to be her equal,' something like that. I think it's true though. We tried everything we could, but we thought he would never change. Honestly," she looked down and continued slowly, "I thought he was going to be like that forever."

Temari didn't know what to say.

"Thank you," Ino continued after a while, "for helping him."

* * *

She'd realized it during her year abroad.

If she was truthful, she'd known it earlier on. It was why she'd left him in the first place.

But when the feeling finally daunted and then sat with her, deep in her gut and tying her chest, she'd been a hundred miles away.

They talked more than they used to the next few months, but not as frequently as she would have liked.

They took walks in the park, and every now and then, Temari took one of the empty rooms on the first floor and spent the night.

She was in love with him. It was far beyond a crush and skipping over any gradual lust. There was lust—_plenty of it_—but sex wasn't what occupied her mind. It wasn't the process of attraction, then sexual urges, and then romance. The love, the yearning and caring, had built without any realization and then slowly prcked its way into her conscious.

If she were being honest, she'd come back for him too.

She'd come back _to _him. So that maybe, one day, he'd feel the same way. But she was content to wait for him. Choji had said he was becoming a better person for her, and Temari was satisfied to let him come to her.

* * *

The first time Shikamaru smiled for her— not in her direction, or at a joke or anything like that— was New Year's. They were at Mr. Yamanaka's home to celebrate. It was a massive party, one akin to those she'd attended in college. Swanker, certainly, but still booming with noise and heat from near pressed bodies. Temari's dress was loose, practically baggy, black silk with one string around her waist to cinch it.

She was aware that the straps on her shoulder looked ready to come off; it was the appeal of the dress. It was long and covered almost all of her leg and torso, but was easy to get off— noticeably.

Falling straps were a consequence of the plain sexuality of the dress, and she took it in heed, pulling them up every now and then. Until at one point, Shikamaru did it.

"Oh," she'd said, not even aware he'd been behind her. "Thank you."

His eyes crinkled and his lips turned her insides coiled. He was smiling.

He moved to pull up the other one, but waved him away, quite unsure and feeling stifled. "I got it."

Shikamaru lost his smile and shrugged, turning away from her and back to the party. The moment was tight, and she could tell he felt it. "You told me to stop being so passive," he said lightly.

There was a pause.

She wondered if he'd knew what he'd said. Or if he knew what he did to her— what he'd always done to her, even then.

"Come on," Temari said eventually, grabbing his elbow and dragging him through the crowd. "I want to show you something."

"Show me what?"

"It's a surprise."

"It's almost midnight."

But she ignored him, fingers clenching into his elbow, and he didn't put up much of a fight. She pulled him through the house, stopping only when she came to one of the closed doors. Technically, there wasn't a rule against going into closed doors, but she supposed it went far past common courtesy when in someone else's home.

But Temari had been wandering around earlier in the night, and her aimlessness had led her here.

"We probably shouldn't—"

"Sh," she said quietly, letting go of his arm and turning the knob. As earlier, it wasn't locked.

The room was mostly empty, a few unused chairs and what appeared to be miscellaneous storage, mostly. A lamp was left on from when Temari had first entered a few hours before. In the middle of the near wall was a grand piano, most likely out of tune and carrying a fair subscription of dust, but certainly not out of order.

Shikamaru stopped in the doorway, his eyes scanning the area before setting on the piano and blinking.

"You play, don't you?"

Shikamaru licked his lips. "I used to."

Temari reached over and grabbed his wine glass from where he was dangling it by his thigh. He let it go easily, eyes not moving off the instrument. She then stepped back and watched him watch the piano.

"Play for me."

He looked over at her, "it's been ten years."

She mouthed _please_ in a half-joking manner, but his expression was serious, and she quickly sobered. His expression wasn't cold, nor was it warm, just kind of quiet. But it gave her a tight feeling in her chest. It was a look she'd grown accustomed to more recently. It wasn't yearning and it wasn't content, it was just merely… watching. And the feelings accompanied with it were already familiar, feelings and heats she'd never wanted to be associated with him.

With a final sigh, he waved a hand over his eyes and moved over to the piano.

Shikamaru sat down on the black bench, fingers loosening his tie and teeth biting into his lower lip. He was nervous and that made her feel more excited than before.

Temari took a stance against the wall to his left, crossing her ankles and holding his empty wind glass in a loose hand by her chest. The room was relatively dark, but there was a pale glow from the lamp in the corner and the light through the windows.

Shikamaru clenched and unclenched his hands. He glanced at her and she nodded in encouragement. Then he started to play.

His fingers moved over the keys slowly, the tune deep and melodic. He was good in a mediocre sort of way. It was much better than she was expecting and Temari found herself in a light, daydreamed state without actually thinking about anything.

Her whole body felt flighty.

His fingers were long and knobby, and they were moving in distinct patterns and Temari found herself substantially aroused in addition to the lightness. She closed her eyes and listening to the music. Outside the party wore on.

As the song continued, Shikamaru became more confident. His shoulders loosened and he even smiled— again.

It ended too soon. Temari immediately began clapping, but stopped as soon as she opened her eyes to see Shikamaru, having risen from the bench to stand, in front of the piano, facing her fully.

"I'll give it to you."

Heat rose to her neck with his expression. It was very different than the one she had seen the night they met. But not unlike the one from his birthday two years ago.

"Huh?"

He stared at her, unabashed. "If you say it's okay, I'll give you everything I have."

Outside the countdown began. Ten, nine, eight, down to one without either of them speaking. When midnight hit, there were screams and fireworks in the distance.

But Shikamaru and Temari stood, over five feet between them, in silence. Shikamaru seemed to understand it though.

"I want you," he said.

* * *

**Year Six**

"How many people are here?"

They were sitting on the edge of a bed now, both hanging their feet over, facing front, over half a foot between them.

Shikamaru shrugged, his hands resting gently between his thighs. "About thirty, I think."

"Oh." She ran a hand over her eyes and muttered: "do you think sound travels well, like in your house?"

"Probably. Why?"

"Because," she said quietly, strikingly surprised with how embarrassed she suddenly felt, "we can't do anything."

Shikamaru paused, obviously confused, and she recognized the moment the he realized what she meant and turned his head to look at her.

He grabbed her hand and held it on the bed between them, "I want to kiss you."

Temari had had sex before.

Many times. Before and after she'd first met him.

But for some reason, Shikamaru's words made her blush in a way she hadn't since her early youth. And it made the blood rush to her groin, where is had casually pulsed since his confession twenty minutes before.

He wasn't a good kisser.

Quite bad, actually. And she had a sinking feeling it was his first real kiss. She'd mainly gotten over how young he was, but reminders didn't help.

But she had no aspirations to quit now, so she thought perhaps she could show him how.

She pulled away before he did.

"How much longer are you out of school?" She asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"Another week."

Temari pulled her hand from his and stood up, fixing the wrinkles in her dress. "Would you like to come stay at my place until then?" She asked as though it were the most casual request in the world.

"I'd like that," he said, a tinge of a smile on his lips. "Very much."

* * *

Well, I'm going to go have a drink in celebration of finishing this finally (nothing has taken me so long). This is almost as long as CUT.

Shikaku and Inoichi's roles were written into this before... well, yeah. I thought it odd that I had finally decided to write Inoichi into a story when it happened. Anyway. Can I dedicate this chapter to him? Well it is now. This chapter also celebrates my undying love for Ino Yamanaka. I need to learn how to write Choji better, I know. But I mean... _Ino._

What ever.

**So I sincerely thank all of you for your support and for continuing to read my story. A lot of work went into these stories both from myself, from the wonderful heathrowe, and from my lovely beta, and the other friends whom have looked things over and helped. **

**But mainly thank all of you readers for our feedback and encouragement. I am humbled and honored to have such beautiful readers. Thank you, really. I love you all. **

**Please review. **

**Goodbye for now.**

(see you in volume two)!


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